Erlebnisse
by missMHO
Summary: /00Q - SentinelGuide AU/ Q's twenty-seven and has been a Guide for half his life and he's already come to terms with the fact there was no one for him. And now... A broken double-oh?
1. time jumbled our steps

_My first attempt at writing a SentinelGuide!AU. Also I'm non-native user of English and have no beta, so I'm extremely sorry for any grammar/vocab mistakes._

_I hope you'll enjoy the story. Any feedback is very welcome! :)_

_(Also, this story was published some time ago on ArchiveOfOurOwn **by me**, under the same username as here. Please don't accuse me of stealing my own work as it once happened. I just felt my account here was getting rusty and decided to add it here as well.)_

**ж**

* * *

**erlebnisse **(n.)

the experiences, positive or negative, that we feel most deeply, and through which we truly live; not mere experiences, but Experiences

* * *

It's not that he has anything against ships.

Bond was never one to be jaded, he would have never joined the navy otherwise. But preceding few months were not really the best of his life. Firstly being shot by a co-agent (a freaking Guide who decided to go in the field), followed by the self-destructing vacation. Now the whole disarray with bombed MI-6 headquarters and stolen hard drive. Not to mention the barely passed tests (who the hell even thought it would be a good idea to mention _Skyfall_ during his psychological evaluation? Bloody shrinks).

He still doesn't feel completely ready to be out in the field. He feels old and broken and his Sentinel senses has recently started to betray him. But he would rather die in some alley in Shanghai than by overuse of alcohol in some hotel in London as an ex-double-oh.

So now he sits in an art gallery, of all things, and waits to meet his new Quartermaster and finally take off for the mission. And he sits in front of this damned painting of a ship. _The Fighting Temeraire Tugged To Her Last Berth To Be Broken Up_, he reads the note under the frame. Just hilarious. (Though, he is partly thankful for the place being an art gallery. His senses have been going crazy since his last "death" and the relative silence of the place is almost soothing.

All this _nearly_ makes him think that having a Guide would be quite nice. Someone to actually _care_ about his state and bring the blissful tranquillity to the overstimulated senses.)

It's not a thing that happens every time he's faced with a boat. But he's having harsh time, didn't really sleep well and it just happens. The associations unfolds by themselves in his brain. The water and the boats. Venice. Vesper.

He hates being melancholic when he's this much of a wreck.

ж

Q seems to be unable to move. He hates to be late but he's just standing there, a couple of steps separating 007 and him and he _can't_ close this distance.

It's not supposed to happen. He has already made peace with himself. Accepted the fact he's defective. That he won't ever bond and just live through his life with a hole in his chest.

And now he can't move because - in the most sublime form of paradox - for the first time in his life he feels this _pull_. His Russian blue, his feline spirit animal, is purring at his feet, observing the agent on the bench with amusement.

But it can't be. It's not possible. There was never anyone compatible. He's twenty-seven and has been a Guide for half his life and he's already came to terms with the fact there was _no one_ for him. Damn him, if MI-6 hadn't been trying to match him with any unbonded Sentinel in their array, knowing how that would improve his already exceptional skills. Some of them even felt pulled to Q, but it was never mutual. He long ago ceased believing in the fairytales like having one destined soulmate Sentinel somewhere looking for him. But to be nobody for him...

And now—A broken double-oh?

He takes a shuddering breath and sits on the bench next to James Bond. He hates himself for how anxious he feels. That's not him. He's strong. He can manage and he _will_.

"Always makes me feel a little melancholy," he says and curses himself in his mind. He always blathers when he's either overtired or nervous. Then he adds something more about the painting and when he realizes he's indirectly offending the agent, he wants to shoot himself in the head. _Great start, Q._

No wonder the Sentinel wants to leave as soon as Q finishes his peculiar monologue.

"007," he calls after him and the other man returns to his place.

It's when, not long later, they shake hands, he truly feels it again. This pull, the need to surrender himself to Bond and at the same time take care of wrecked agent, never leave his side again, become _his_. But Bond's impossibly blue eyes are steady when they take in Guide's appearance. Curious and bewildered, but also tired and absent and there's no spark that would indicate he felt the same.

Q has the sudden urge to curl up at the very bench he's sitting on. But he doesn't. He's stronger than that. He is an unbonded Guide who became the youngest head of department in the history of MI-6 and no Sentinel is going to change that, especially one visibly not interested in him.

But the almost primal _need_ to bend his head back and uncover his neck for 007 is overwhelming.

He finishes the meeting as swiftly as he can.

ж

There's something about this youngster that calls himself his Quartermaster that makes him linger in Bond's mind. He can't really put a finger on it and it's irritating him. He tries not to think about it, but flights to Shanghai are not particularly interesting and he ends up analyzing the meeting in art gallery over and over again. He must admit that Q is witty and enthralling in being so easy to underestimate, but if these were the only things, it won't bother him this much. What did he miss? Once again, he wishes his senses would start cooperating with him, like they used to.

Then, much later, when the female Guide, Eve, visits him in Macau, the only detail he cherishes in his mind from this meeting is learning the fact that apparently Q is afraid of flying.

Why would he pay so much attention to it?

ж

Q is rapt with work, the agency system still needing to be improved with new defence protocols after latest attacks, when unexpectedly his heart makes a weird jerk. He stops typing, amused by the phenomenon. Then he notices 007 entering the Q-Branch.

The Sentinel is casting glances around him, taking in the small crowd of technicians working restlessly, but he's clearly heading for Q's desk. Q can almost hear his spirit purr.

"Q," the agent says.

"007. I've already been given your radio. What happened to the Walther?"

Bond shrugs and his sky blue eyes don't leave the quartermaster, like he is some kind of puzzle to solve. It doesn't necessarily make the younger man more comfortable. "I'm afraid it was consumed by a komodo dragon."

Q can't stop himself from rising his brows in exasperated look. "Have you just said that you fed a giant reptile with my gun?"

The Sentinel smiles charmingly as a response. Q sighs and adjusts his glasses. _You can do it, just act like he isn't the only person in the world that would make you complete._

"May I ask what is the reason for your visit here? Can I help you with anything?"

007 puts his hands in his trousers' pockets and glares at the multiple screens. "I wanted to be present when you decode Silva's computer."

"You came right on time, then."

_Just don't show off, _he tells himself. It's _just_ a Sentinel.

"Now, looking at Silva's computer..."

ж

Q is staring at his hands with hateful expression. He failed. He set Silva out. He should have seen through all this.

The escaped Sentinel is right. He's not 'a clever boy'. He's a bloody idiot. His first month as a Quartermaster and he has allowed such a disaster to happen.

No wonder Bond didn't even recognize him as a potentially compatible Guide. He wouldn't want himself either.

The shields he has taken up so long ago and kept always up, protecting him from the surrounding world, suddenly shatter and the emotions of the present technicians attack him with overwhelming force. The fear, doubt, anxiety, desperation, confusion, doubt, anger, _doubt_.

His Russian blue makes himself visible next to the keyboard and hisses at Q angrily.

He needs all his strength to stop his knees from giving out, when his own empathy is crushing him. He buries his face in his hands, curling the fingers on the frames on his glasses. He needs to focus, raise his shields again...

"Q, he's gone," Bond's voice is resonating from the intercom and suddenly it seems enough. Q focuses on it, missing the meaning of the following sentence, but he feels he's taking control over his ferocious empathy with agent's voice as an anchor. He lifts the shields with a sigh of relief.

"Do you read me, Q?"

"I can hear you," he says, grateful that his voice doesn't shake. "I'm looking for you."

He starts typing furiously trying to track his Sen— _the_ Sentinel.

ж

M is sitting in the back of the car and Bond knows he needs to disappear and form a plan. He needs someone he trusts who would lead Silva to his accord.

The first person he thinks of is Q and that's somehow surprising. Rationally it's a good choice, he's the technical genius who can play Silva in his own virtual game. The young quartermaster may have lost the first round, but Bond knows really well that it wasn't Q's fault. Even his skills couldn't stop something planned so carefully.

What really bothers the Sentinel is the fact that he simply doesn't trust people this easily. But somehow Q is an exception to this rule. And Bond doesn't really have time to consider it now, just follows his gut.

"Q. I need help."

ж

Bond is sitting in the dark of the soundproof room in the Medical of MI-6 headquarters. His wounds have been tended and he was given a sedative that should soothe his senses.

He feels on the verge of losing his mind.

His head is pounding, skin feels like it's on fire and unbearable weight on his chest is making him suffocate. He feels so helpless, he almost wants to zone out if that would stop all _this_.

M is dead and it is his fault. Everyone he ever truly cared about is now dead, his home burnt down and he can't even control his senses. His Sentinel nature is betraying him again and this time, he doesn't possess any more will to fight.

There're steps outside the room and he isn't supposed to perceive the sound of them, he shouldn't, he is in a room made especially for Sentinels on the verge of zoning out. Even though, he makes those imaginary steps centre of his attention and tries to overfocus his hearing.

_Let me zone out and never wake up._

He hears a _meow_ in the corner of the room and startles, trying to make out any shape in the darkness. It's soon followed by another one, almost scolding.

He must have finally lost it.

The meowing doesn't stop and it feels like ages. It's the only variable thing in this void and he can't tune it out.

He breaks out of the room after the aeon of struggle and this _damned meowing_.

The cat is sitting in front of the door, his tail swaying in amusement as he watches the Sentinel. He has very svelte figure, even for a cat, his fur is grey and eyes are of impossible shade of green. Those eyes remind him of somebody...

Cat purrs almost approvingly and starts pacing towards the end of the corridor. When stunned Bond doesn't follow him, this furry nuisance looks back and once again meows at him. The Sentinel laughs with sick desperation. Cats can't make scolding sounds. That's ridiculous. And with that thought, he follows.

He drags his feet behind him and leans on the wall to keep vertical position. His grey guide stops from time to time to check if Bond is still trailing. Sentinel isn't really sure why he does it at all. Maybe because that keeps the cat quiet, maybe because something inside of him actually seems to pull him towards, maybe because when you no longer have any purpose in life, following a scolding cat seems appealing.

He realizes he arrived at Q-Brach when the silent hum of a single computer fills his ears.

Q turns around abruptly the moment Sentinel lays his eyes on him.

"007?" he says shocked, approaching him hurriedly. He lets Bond lean on his fragile figure and starts steering him towards the nearest door. The cat sits on the nearby desk and purrs, visibly pleased.

"Is this your bloody cat? It wouldn't stop making noise until I followed him," the Sentinel says as they enter some room. It must be where the employees of Q-Branch spend their breaks, there're cupboards there, a table dotted with mugs, a couple of chairs and a huge couch. The latter is where both of them finally end up.

"Is it even allowed to keep pets here?" he's mumbling when Q puts him to lay on the couch with agent's head on younger man's lap. "It shouldn't be, you know how they can irritate Sentinels' senses?" he keeps talking when slender delicate fingers are buried in his short hair.

He looks up at the pale face above him, green eyes gazing into him with unbearable fondness. It was his eyes that the cat reminded him of.

Suddenly, Bond realizes how his senses calmed down since he entered Q-Branch. There's a presence that seems to swathe him, fills him with tranquillity and hope for better. It makes him feel at peace, like he hasn't felt for _years_.

The realization hits him and he would probably stand abruptly and start pacing calling himself stupid, _if_ he wasn't feeling _so_ _comfortable._

"You're a Guide," he says instead, crossing his gaze with Q. The green-eyed man smiles sadly and nods, his hands still stroking Sentinel's hair, projecting the serenity towards wrecked agent.

His senses are settling and sharpening, like they hadn't in months and—

_Oh_.

This irresistible pull, the need to claim and protect, the need to bond – seeming to crawl out of his very being, when the fog tethering his senses finally thinned. He takes a deep breath and Q's scent is filling him, every fibre of his body. He hasn't felt it since Vesper and it's almost like coming home after long tiring journey; like resurrecting.

"You're _my_ Guide," he says like Q is something precious because he _is_. "This damned cat is your spirit, isn't it? It guided me to you."

In response, Q takes a deep breath and makes a sound that Bond can't define, he can't tell if it was a chuckle or a sob and it irritates him.

"You need to rest," the green-eyed quartermaster says and plants a ghost of a kiss on Bond's forehead. He falls asleep almost immediately, mantled in the presence of the Guide.

ж

Bond wakes up alone, rested and lacking. His senses are not as ragged as during past months, but there's suddenly a goring hole in his chest. It was always there but he learnt to disregard it with a success. Now it's like re-opened wound dusted with salt. He knows the reason for his contradicted state and he's still not sure what to do about it. For a moment, he chooses to ignore the problem.

He doesn't feel like getting up, still keeping his eyes shut. The coach is relatively comfortable and he really doesn't want to face the reality yet.

He stretches his freshly regenerated senses a bit and listens to the sounds of working Q-Branch behind the wall. There's almost soothing hum of five—no, six working computers in the background. It must be still very early in the morning as only few employees are present. Seven persons in total; four humans, two bonded Guides and a Sentinel (probably an agent getting his equipment before leaving for an assignment). There's a staccato of restless typing on three keyboards, a conversation he has no interest in and a clack of a mug being put on the desk.

He sighs with contentment. He can't remember the last time he used his skills with such ease, without getting sidetracked.

He knows that Q is not in Q-Branch and probably not even in the headquarters at all. He would feel him, the pull...

He doesn't want to but he's grateful for it.

ж

An hour later, Bond is opening the door to an apartment in a hotel near headquarters. He still hasn't purchased a new flat once the previous one was sold after his death.

He lies down on the couch and helps himself with the bottle of whiskey he bought earlier. He isn't sure he can get through this sober.

He feels trapped. He _can't_ bond, it's in the description of the job. Double-ohs are supposed to be a bit unstable Sentinels, more inclinable to violence than the bonded ones. There are other groups of agents at MI-6 that are required to have a Guide, but _not_ double-ohs.

Back then, for Vesper, he almost quitted MI-6. He sent in his resignation in order to be happy, fulfilled. They didn't want to rush anything and decided to bond after he's finally free of his duties. They were supposed to do it back then in Venice-

Sometimes he still wonders...

After that he decided he would stay an unbonded double-oh agent, now and always, even if he ever meets someone compatible.

But he hasn't predicted _this_.

The way he feels pulled to Q is not the same like it was with Vesper. It's stronger, more primal, more imperative, more, _more_...

It's almost impossible how much influence the Guide had on him. He stopped him from losing the contact with reality due to overstimulation of senses - a thing which was impossible for bonded (more powerful and experienced) Guides from Medical. Vesper never had such control over him, even after they spent so much time together.

Can it be...?

He always took it for a fairytale for teen Guides and Sentinels, a story that is supposed to help them cope with being different than the majority of the society. A spoof telling that their species exist in pairs and they're bound to find this one Guide or Sentinel that would complete them, their bond would be unbreakable and they would understand each other like no one else, imprint on their perfect match and finally feel whole. The pull towards them would be so strong, there would be no doubt...

He loved Vesper and they were compatible as a Sentinel and Guide, but what he felt during those _minutes_ with Q yesterday – it suddenly makes him believe in this fairytale. The only thing he can think of now is finding the quartermaster and never letting him out of his sight again. He needs him to an extent of physical pain; he can already feel returning tangling of senses. At the same time, he is restless in his unawareness of Q's state, twitchy to storm out of the hotel and protect him from any possible danger. Paradoxically, the predator side of his nature wants to pin down this green-eyed skinny boy, scent every millimetre of delicate skin, dig his teeth into the pale neck and mark him, claim the Guide for himself.

He growls out loud at the thought.

And the last thing he can't ignore - he saw his spirit animal, for god's sake! He has never seen Vesper's. It's something quite intimate, reserved for bonded pairs, almost literal baring of one's soul. And Q's spirit simply appeared for him and led him to the _(his)_ Guide.

"Well, _fuck,_" he says taking a gulp of the alcohol right from the bottle.

ж

Q is approaching the headquarters with a take away coffee in his hand, when Bond's presence hits him. He needs to actually stop and take a deep breath. Or three.

He didn't get a wink of sleep since that night. His empathy is out of control, shields keep shattering, his whole being calling out for the Sentinel he left in the break-room of Q-Branch two days ago.

After their first meeting in the art gallery, he thought he would be able to manage, to work with Bond and ignore the pull towards him. But that night tore this plan to shreds. When he actually felt the connection with the Sentinel and those ridiculously blue eyes looked at him like he was the most precious thing in the world, he knew he was done for. There was no good ending to this. He would never be able to forget the sensation of being wanted and bringing bliss to the Sentinel; but he would never bond with a double-oh either. It was like getting a taste of something unimaginably good and then getting your tongue ripped out, with that flavour left in your mind.

He startles when he realizes the presence is gradually getting stronger. At first he assumed that Bond was simply inside the building, but he must also be on his way.

That's when Q sees him, walking from the other end of the street. Their eyes meet, his heart shatters and he _knows_ that Bond is coming _to him_.

He can't move, so he ends up waiting for the Sentinel to reach him after what seems like aeon of trying to keep his shields up. For a moment he's weighed down by the emotions of a quarrelling human couple in a car standing nearby, but he manages to tune himself out. When he opens his eyes, after not realising he closed them in the first place, Bond is standing in front of him with mien of worry painted on his face.

"We need to talk," he says quietly and Guide only nods in response.

They decide agreeably that they won't feel comfortable inside the headquarters and walk to the nearest park, both rapt with their own thoughts on the way. They occupy the first empty bench they come across and for a long moment, just watch people walking their dogs and jogging by.

"Q, I—" Bond hesitates and the Guide can't help but cringe a little at the sound of his name. "I can't bond with you."

"I know," he replies too quickly. "Double-ohs' policy."

Q's grip on the coffee tightens and the prolonged contact with hot liquid within thin-walled container makes his palms prickle. He's grateful for it's strong smell of cinnamon, filling his nostrils. Bond's scent still cuts through it but is more bearable (and Q thinks that if it wasn't for the intensity of cinnamon, he would have already bared his throat to the other man and _begged_ for being bitten).

"I wouldn't make a good Sentinel," the agent persists and his hoarse voice reverberates in Q's skull. "You'll find someone better than me," he says, though it barely makes it out of his throat. "You're barely twenty, whole life is ahead of you."

The Guide's chuckle is hollow and his hands are starting to hurt from holding the coffee. "I'm twenty seven, 007. And it's not— Nevermind."

He can't continue, his hands starts to shake and his shields crumble. He feels his empathy going wild as his nature of a Guide attempts to convey his caveat to losing _the _Sentinel. Trying to regain control seems an infinite struggle, though it probably doesn't last more than a minute.

When his eyes focus again, Bond is looking at him intently, with fear and uncontaminated possessiveness.

"You're in pain," he says dazed. "Your hands..."

He takes the coffee from the quartermaster and puts it under the bench.

_He shouldn't have known, it's impossible, he can't sense my feelings, we are not bonded,_ Q chants in his mind as the Sentinel tenderly takes younger man's hands into his. The delicate skin on his palms is red and sore and Bond gazes at it like he's holding someone dying in his arms.

"I'm sorry," the Sentinel says almost inaudible and then rapidly gets up and walks further into the park.

ж

As he enters Q-Branch, the majority of the employees look up from their work and glance at him with bewilderment. Q's known rather for working overtime than being late, but nobody says anything. When he's halfway to his workstation, Daniel - one of the older technicians who's been working for MI-6 for some years now and of whom Q is rather fond - approaches him. A bit of worry shows on his face as he eyes his boss.

"Miss Moneypenny called," he reports. "007 and 009 are being sent out on missions today. Documentation was e-mailed to you and the equipment is to be prepared by eleven o'clock."

"Thank you, Daniel," Q says, feeling the headache pounding in his temples. He's thinking about taking the painkillers he keeps in his desks in case of such occurrences and that's when he realizes his coffee is still under the bench in the park, where Bond put it and...

"Daniel, could you please fetch me some tea? Strong one, no sugar," he calls after him and it sounds more like a plea than an order and the other man frowns a little as he says "Of course, sir," and leaves for the break room.

Q sighs heavily as he sinks into his chair and enters the password to his computer. He needs to compose himself before Bond comes to collect his equipment.

This whole situation with their pull towards each other is _ridiculous_. How is this even possible? They're so diverse and disparate, how can they even be compatible?!

Despite everything, it _is_ happening. And they have no choice but to cope with it.

He _will_ endure. He won't lose everything he worked for just because the Guide inside of him made the worst choice possible.

He _will_ endure and live as an unbounded Guide.

Even if he does not fully believe in it himself.

ж

Q has problems concentrating as he is actually waiting for the upcoming meeting with Bond – and hates himself for it. It's really not going to turn out well if his life starts to consist of bitter-sweet encounters with the Sentinel and anticipating in between.

009 left the Q-Branch with his equipment fifteen minutes ago and since that, Q hasn't managed to do anything productive. He can't stop analysing their conversation in the park, even though it feels like digging his own grave.

Half an hour later, Quartermaster feels Bond approaching and ensures that his mental shields are intact. He can't allow another breakdown - he needs to learn how to cope around 007 (as well as he's afraid some of the Guide-technicians may pick up some emotions that should not be known to the MI-6).

When Bond actually enters, Q's checking (for the fourth time) the algorithm he wrote earlier, that would be requisite for the following mission.

"I've heard you have something for me," Bond says when he reaches Quartermaster's workstation. He's in a perfectly fitting navy suit, his hands buried in the pockets, with the attitude of usual nonchalance surrounding him. It helps Q relax a little, too.

"Indeed, I have and I _hope_ you will take care of them this time. Those are not _toys_ for you to play with and break when you feel like it."

"Seems like I've been deluded for _years_! Thanks for clearing that up, Q."

"Oh, it's my pleasure to serve you, 007."

Their exchange comes so naturally and feels so comfortable, that when they both realise the occurrence, sudden tension forms between them and the Sentinel physically takes a step back.

Q busies his hands with taking out the set of equipment and laying each piece on the other side of the desk, within agent's reach. He's not sure he will bear even brush of touch today, though his whole being is begging for it.

"New personalised Walther," the Guide explains, touching the described item. "Just in case, it should not be needed this time. Quickly reminder that it's not a nutriment for reptiles." Q looks at the Sentinel askance and gets an innocent shrug as a response.

"Communication devices," he brushes an earpiece and a microphone with his fingertips. "And USB receiver. And no losing the earpiece in some sort of beverage. The contact must be maintained throughout the whole mission."

"Who is to be my handler tonight?"

"It seems it's going to be me, 007."

Bond smiles possessively at the answer, collects his ration of gadgets and the envelope with plane ticket to Ireland and leaves without another word.

ж

The Q-Branch is almost fully covered in darkness. There is only one row of lights on, just above the Quartermaster's workstation. It's not an often happening - there is always someone to be monitored in the other part of the world and time zone. But tonight it's only the Q himself and 007 in his ear.

The plan of action is strict and clear. And this part requires the targeted hacker to leave his house and spend next few hours in a brothel – like he does every Thursday. And the agent is bound to wait.

"He's making himself a coffee," Bond informs exasperated. "Two— no, three sugar cubes and no milk... When will he kindly leave?"

"Stop moaning, 007."

For no particular reason, the hacker is actually delaying his usual departure and the agent becomes bored. He's been sitting on a tree next to the house for a second hour now. And for the last thirty minutes he's been using his preternatural hearing to report in details, what the man is doing, to really uninterested Q.

Bond shifts among the leaves and takes a deep breath. He's silent for another ten minutes (and Q starts to regret that he silenced the agent) when the query drops.

"Have you ever felt such pull before?"

Q actually stops breathing for a moment, but calms quickly. It's easier that way, when he's all alone in the half-light of Q-Branch and Bond is just a voice (dangerously intoxicating and addicting voice) in his ear.

"No," he answers simply, not yet ready to reveal everything. But he dares to ask. "You had almost bonded once, hadn't you?"

"Yes, I had," Bond says in a hollow voice. "But you know it all from my file."

"The file does not state about your emotions," Q retorts before he can stop himself. "And that's what holds the most interest to me."

The Guide thinks he hears a twig broke to a couple of pieces. "It was devastating. I promised myself I would never go through that again."

It hurts to listen but he was the one to ask the question in the first place.

"What you said earlier, that I will find someone else," Q starts and it's like swallowing needles but he _needs_ to say it. "You would not imagine how MI-6 would like to see me bonded and at my full capacity, but—" a short hysterical laugh escapes his lips. "There's never been anyone for me. You're the only Sentinel I've ever felt pulled towards to."

Unsuppressed growl of possessiveness comes out from Bond at the admission and his breathing quickens.

They're both torturing each other. But they can't cease.

"It wasn't that strong with _her_ as it is with you..." the Sentinel's voice is barely a whisper. "So incredibly irresistible... We were compatible, but_you_..."

Q feels a weight on his chest that becomes heavier and heavier with every word of agent's confession and it's seems to go on forever.

He wants to be broken to pieces and then rebuild with parts of _his _Sentinel intermingled with him.

They're cultivating their own psychological demise and ignore the impending disaster.

"The target left five minutes ago. I'm entering the house."

Q bits his own lip until the metallic savour hits his palate and sobers him. "In the basement, you'll find the locked door with a fingerprint reader beside them."

For a moment there's distant sound of footsteps filling his skull and quartermaster can't stop himself from sucking on the bleeding lip.

"I'm by the door."

"Okay, wait a second."

Q opens the window with ready algorithm and activates it. He smiles to himself when everything goes according to plan.

"Now it should recognize you as authorized to enter."

There's a five second silence and then, "It worked. How did you do it?"

"Overwritten some poorly firewalled commands on a server of company that secures the house... I won't bore you with the details. What's most important, is that you don't leave any tracks that you've ever been there."

"You're a genius, have I ever told you that?"

The Guide inside of him almost purrs at the praise but Q does not allow himself to act like an attention-seeking girl with a crush.

"So now my inexistent complexion problem does not affect my efficiency?"

Bond lets out short honest laugh and the Guide feels it reverberate along his spine.

"Once you're in, turn the computer on and put in the USB I gave you. And I'll do the rest of work for you."

The extraction of the data they need is finished in twenty-five minutes. Q is satisfied with himself - his USB receiver fulfilled it's purpose and there's no trace of his presence in the system.

"You can remove the USB and catch the next flight to London, 007."

_Come back_, Q doesn't dare to say out loud. _God damn me, but I need you closer._


	2. (it has cat green eyes like yours)

Bond boards the plane back to England and feels restless. And it's not really that uncommon, but this mission wasn't the one which makes you high on adrenaline for hours after. He understands that Mallory does not trust him fully yet and wants to check him via less demanding assignment, but something involving more violence may have occupied the Sentinel inside of him for a while. Now he feels on edge and his fingers itch to destroy something (or – even more keenly – to touch every millimetre of his Quartermaster's skin).

He may have said that they can't bond, but it doesn't mean he doesn't want it with every atom of his being. He may have said that Q will find someone else, but that doesn't mean he won't go feral if another Sentinel would try to get closer to him. It was hurtful to hear that Q had never met anyone compatible before, but at the same time it made the Sentinel inside of him bellow with ill satisfaction.

He can't stop wondering... Would it really fill the hole inside his chest if he bonded? If he surrenders to this primal need and claims _his_ Guide, would it truly feel that _good _to bind yourself with another person for the rest of your life at such profound level?

He has met those pairs of Sentinel and Guides who assert that it was _it_, that they had no doubts they found their complement. And he could not deny that they seemed content and matched and indisputably happy.

But Q is so young and genius and seems so fragile, how could he be meant for him? He's broken and old.

And now there's no chance for their faulty match to be fulfilled.

But Bond _knows_ he won't just let go. He won't shut himself off. He _can't_.

They will both wreck each other completely and will probably savour every moment of it, just because they would do it _together_.

And they need to be careful about it. Double-ohs are supposed to be alone and Q is not someone who would accompany him out in the field – his domain is his technological magic. If MI-6 comes to know about their compatibility, one of them will be sent away to SIS' establishment at the other end of the world and it would be made sure that 007 and Quartermaster would never meet again. That Bond would not accept.

If only they had bonded spontaneously! MI-6 would have no right to separate them or deny their rights. But as Bond was too fucked up to recognise Q as his Guide back then in the art gallery—

They lost their only chance.

But Bond has dealt with impossible more than once, hasn't he?

ж

He's having take away cinnamon coffee again and this time he manages to actually bring it to work with him. Just when he's having his last mouthful and comes to regret he got medium instead of large, Bond walks into the Q-Branch like he belongs there. Q lets the excitement and longing fill him and double-checks his mental shields. He's getting better at dealing with his- the Sentinel's presence.

"How was the flight, 007?" the Guide asks, though he doesn't raise his gaze from the screen in front of him where he encodes the data that Bond obtained previous night.

"Short and uneventful," answers the agent and reposes his set of equipment on the desk, next to Q's keyboard.

"Do we have some festivities today?" Q teases, checking the items. "All of the toys came back in one piece?"

Bond smirks. "I'm sorry to say, but getting used to it would not be advised."

Q smiles in response and the gash at his lip re-opens. He reflexively licks the little blood that escapes from the ripped scab. Bond is watching the process _too_ intently.

"Did someone hurt you?" he asks, his voice dark and the Guide knows he is ready to tear apart anyone that would dare to cause him pain. It's a bitter-sweet thought, he decides, as he observes the held back twitch of Bond's hand to reach to his face.

"No, it's my own fault," Q assures the Sentinel. _I just can't stop nipping at it whenever I think too much about you, because physical pain is the easiest way to sober and not get drowned in my own strained empathy._

They stay silent for a moment. Neither of them wants to get apart again.

Q turns around reflexively when he feels another Sentinel entering Q-Branch. He sees Tanner accompanied by an unknown man with an aura of an agent around him. They seem to be heading to his workstation.

The Sentinel is unbonded and suddenly Q realizes the purpose of this visit. It's yet another attempt of MI-6 to find him a match. He glances at Bond and prays that this new agent would be far from compatible.

"Good afternoon, Q" says Tanner and then nods at his companion. "This is Jonathan Ewens. Brand new asset of SIS."

_And _not_ a double-oh material, so we want him bonded,_ Q adds in his mind. He forces himself to smile.

"It's nice to meet you," accosts Ewens. There's conspicuous interest in his gaze as he extends his hand towards quartermaster. The Guide accepts it and when the skin meets skin, sparkle illuminates Sentinel's brown eyes and Q fills with dread. Ewens found him compatible.

His shields break as fright hits him and Sentinels' emotions strike him: Bond's alarm as Ewens bonding pheromones spread into the air, younger man's surprise and—

There's a silhouette of grey wolf in front of him, his stance tense, fur bristled, teeth bared at Ewens.

Bond's spirit.

Rapidly, strong hands grasp Q's shoulders and move him aside with paradoxical delicacy. Then hell breaks loose.

Bond lashes out at the other Sentinel and both of them go feral, before Q's empathy calms down to an extent that allows him to take in the situation. They move with preternatural speed and Q feels dizzy. Tanner stands by him too shocked to react - he knows the law and both fighting man should be sedated, but he does not have the gun with him. He didn't expect that.

The crack of breaking bone seems to bring Q around. Those Sentinels are feral _over him_ and he needs to _do something._ He decides to follow his instinct.

Ewens is pulling out a screwdriver from his thigh and the other Sentinel is kneeling next to him, swinging his arm for the next strike, when Q drops to the floor and puts his arms around Bond's chest. He stills at the touch, letting out incoherent roar from his throat. At the same time, Q focuses on Ewens and younger agent is brought to a standstill under attack of Guide's empathy.

Bond's confused growl makes Q startle and open his eyes. He sizes up zoned out Ewens with a relieved sigh and then shifts his empathy to the Sentinel in his arms. But this time he projects serenity and assurance of Bond's exclusivity over Quartermaster. The agent becomes limp when Q's fingers tangle into fair hair.

"Tanner," Q says quietly in order not to ruffle Bond's senses. "Please, take Ewens out of here. Preferably to Medical."

"Of course, sure," the man replies, still pale and not fully recovered from the unexpected chain of events. "What about 007?"

"To my mind no one should approach him for a moment," Q says and can't help the hint of the possessiveness that creeps into his voice. "Evacuating everyone from Q-Branch for at least half an hour would be a good idea too. There're no pressing missions being monitored at the moment."

Couple of minutes later, the place is emptied with exception of a Guide and half-feral Sentinel tangled in the arms of the former.

When they're finally alone, Q allows himself to plant a brief kiss on Bond's temple, his fingers still stroking short blond hair. The Sentinel is breathing heavily and his hands are clenched over quartermaster's calves, as it's the only part of the Guide he has easy access to.

"It's okay now," Q murmurs, letting Bond's scent fill his nostrils and calm him as well. "I'm yours, even if you can't have me."

As a response, the Sentinel whimpers with exasperation, still not able to form a coherent answer.

Q lets himself savour every split second of closeness with Bond. Now that Tanner knows they're compatible, those may be his last moments with Bond ever. So he needs to preserve as many memories from _this _as possible.

They don't know for how long they just sit there in silence, relishing the touch and intimacy, but too soon, the door are opened and Tanner enters, he looks resigned and gloomy and tired.

He does not approach them, only delivers a message.

"007, you are dismissed till the end of the week. Q, you are summoned to see M, _now_."

Getting out of Q's embrace is one of the most difficult tasks in Bond's life. And he overthrew governments.

Both of them realise it can be the last time they ever see each other and Q's empathy breaks under the weight of the moment. He's projecting a mess of emotions towards the Sentinel and seems unable to stop. A tangle of _your touch burns me GO AWAY don't leave me don't leave me don't leave me _hits him and it doesn't help at all, but then maybe helps a lot.

The Sentinel tenderly runs his fingers through Q's soft hair and leaves the Q-Branch without looking back.

He's not sure where he's going. People lower their heads under his gaze and get out of his way instinctively. He stops abruptly the moment his feet hit the pavement out of the building. He can't make another step. It's already too much of a distance. Q is too far away.

He starts pacing in front of the door and for once he's grateful for being known in the agency as the security just lets him walk around the Vauxhall Cross and doesn't shoo him away – especially regarding his aggressive stance and ragged appearance. His suit is ruined - the jacket is lacking one sleeve and his blood-stained shirt is gaped open due to loss of buttons, the material over his knees torn apart from flinging onto the floor too rapidly. There are a lot of nail scratches on his skin, a bite mark on one hand and bruises on the chest and back are starting to get sore.

But none of it really matters to him, nevertheless he is highly satisfied with his knowledge that the other Sentinel has a stab wound in his thigh, a broken wrist and impressive collection of bruises and scratches as well - many of them on his whippersnapper face.

His thoughts keep coming back to Q as he's finally fully recovering from the feral state. He's still hyper aware of everything, but is far from zoning out - his Guide is now the centre of his attention and his anchor. But some things that were previously lost due to his breakdown, now become transparent to him - that he's more invested into all this than he expected, that he gave them away and brought the cease of all their clandestine not-bond, and most importantly that _Q made another Sentinel zone out without even touching him_.

He had his arms around feral Bond, was unbalanced in the face of their fight and still managed to do it. Maybe one third of Guides is able to make a Sentinel zone out at all. And majority of them requires skin on skin contact to carry out the mental sedation.

Bond knew Q was a strong Guide but he never expected _that_ kind of prowess.

He can't suppress a smug smile. He is _his_ destined Guide after all. Of course he is the extraordinary one of the exceptional.

No wonder MI-6 wants him bonded so badly. Once he is balanced by his Sentinel and his full potential is finally brought out... Q would be one of the most powerful Guides in the world.

ж

Q is still little shaky when he reaches M's office. Moneypenny looks up from her papers when she hears his (almost dragged) steps. She must have already heard what happened.

Q had once thought she perceived Bond as a compatible Sentinel – because of the way she spoke about him, yet before the Quartermaster first met him in front of a painting of a ship – but then he heard it was her fault that an empty coffin with a name 'James Bond' on it was buried in the ground last time. She wouldn't have been able to pull the trigger if she ever felt _the pull_, even under the order. Though, she still acts protective over the agent.

Now there is caring and sympathy in her eyes as Q stops in front of her desk. She grasps his hand for a brief second, projecting calm and reassurance. He's not sure if he appreciates the gesture, so doesn't say anything.

"He's waiting for you," she nods towards the dark wooden door to her right and for Q it feels like pointing towards the gallows.

He enters and, as much as he would like to decline the gesture inviting him to sit, he is still not sure if his legs would manage to keep him standing throughout this conversation.

Gareth Mallory is an Alpha Sentinel and it's impossible not to feel submissive in his presence. His aura is one of those that ignite unshakable allegiance inside of you, especially when you're a Sentinel or Guide. That fact makes all this meeting inconceivably unfair.

"How long have you been hiding the fact that you and 007 are compatible, Quartermaster?"

Q licks the gash on his lip in a nervous manner.

"I felt the pull during our first meeting," he answers truthfully. "Bond didn't seem to reciprocate, so I never mentioned it. Then, after Silva, his senses were out of control and I managed to calm him and— After his senses sharpened again, he recognised me as a match as well." The usual confidence in his voice is gone and he can't stop feeling like a teen being lectured by his father on knocking up his underage girlfriend.

"Why did you dissemble the occurrence?"

"I thought it would be of no concern as long as it didn't affect our efficiency in work. We are both aware that we can't bond."

M eyes him carefully and Q is suddenly aware he must still smell of feral Bond. He can't stop himself from deriving comfort from that knowledge, even though he knows how wrong that is in his recent situation.

"Is it Profound?"

Q's eyes widen in surprise at the mention of that term. He never heard it being used in actual conversation. It's a word used only by the old and noble Sentinel lineages. Though it sounds considerably better than the modern one that descends from pop-culture (precisely from that terrible series about vampire Sentinel pulled towards bleak Guide girl who is also compatible with a werewolf) and became the one commonly used: "The Destined Match".

"You understand the term?"

The Guide almost startles. His amazement must have been too visible on his face.

"Yes, I understand."

"So what is the answer to my previous question?"

He doesn't know what to say. If he concedes, would that be the last nail to his coffin? Or should he finally stop playing games with MI-6?

There's an unexpected click of opened doors and Moneypenny bursts into the room.

"I am incredibly sorry, but there's extremely important call on the second line."

M frowns with discontent and sighs. "You are dismissed, Q. Both of you will be closely monitored from now on," he adds and makes a gesture to hurry the Guide to leave.

Once outside the closed door to M's office, he leans on the wall and takes a deep breath. Their status quo remains – but for how long?

ж

When Q leaves the headquarters half an hour later, after he put Daniel in charge of the Q-Branch for the rest of the day, Bond is standing in front of the building, still in his ragged clothing.

The Guide opens his mouth to ask what the hell the agent is still doing there, because he can't afford to spend any more minute in his company today, but then, he sees the longing and desperation in those sky blue eyes and he suddenly doesn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't... I can't have you too far..." Bond starts to mumble and a Sentinel should never look that miserably.

"It was our first and last slip," Q simply covers his conversation with M as a response and for a moment they both just stand there, avoiding each other eyes.

Q understands that Bond is unable to leave his side right now. He has just recently fought for him (and won) and now anyone near him is perceived as a threat. It would be easier if the Guide didn't reciprocate the pull, but in their case... For Sentinel to stay in too far distance would be physically painful and dangerous for his surroundings. He can't leave him at least until he's sure that Q is safe in his own flat and in no danger of meeting other Sentinels.

Not that the Guide inside of quartermaster doesn't feel the primal, irresistible need to comfort his Sentinel after the incident.

"I need to go home," Q says and Bond raises his head in rapid movement, panic curving the lines on his face into the mien of anguish. The Sentinel took the words as a command to leave the Guide alone. "Escort me," the younger man adds tenderly.

The smile that appears on Bond's lips is almost childish. He's still not fully recovered from the state of raw emotions after going feral and he is more expressive than Q has ever seen him. It makes his heart flinch uncontrollably.

He automatically turns left, towards the tube, but then he realizes that Bond is not poised for such a journey. There is specially sectioned off part of the train for Guides that holds the purpose of preventing any Guide from falling into empathic coma after attack of too many emotions of people crowded in a metal can underground. But Bond should not be exposed to any kind of clusters of people right now. He may even attack a Sentinel who just accidentally held his eyes on Q for a second too long.

"A cab, then," he says to himself as he starts looking around for one.

ж

Q opens the door to his flat and freezes in the doorway. Bond is standing two steps behind him and the Guide has never before been so much at loss. He wants the Sentinel to enter with him and never leave.

He turns around to face the other man even though he still has no idea what to do. What is there possibly to be done?

Bond doesn't look at him but takes a step closer. He leans towards slowly, till his nose brushes Q's neck. He takes a deep breath, scenting him and then his lips touch the pale skin just where the pulse point is. The Guide can't move, can't breathe and feels like he's falling and the only thing that keeps him upright is the tickling sensation of Bond's breath on his throat. He's not sure how long they last like this but when Bond finally recoils, it feels like he's ripping out Q's heart along with the movement.

Q withdraws into the flat in one quick motion and shuts the door. A sob escapes his lips when he leans heavily on the wall next to him and then slides down to the floor. He still feels Sentinels presence outside in the corridor and it's agonizing.

After what feels like eternity of lying curled up on the floor, the Guide stands up with effort and slowly walks into the bathroom.

He can't be that weak. He's stronger than that. He's Bond's Guide and he'll endure.

He turns the shower on and makes a promise to himself that he will get out of it composed and in control.

When he does - in clean clothes, with wet hair and resolution to get a grip on his labile life – he can't stop his legs from guiding him back to the front door. Before he thinks it through, his hands are unlocking the door and swinging them open.

Bond is still there, in his ragged clothes and covered in blood, sitting on the floor next to Quartemaster's door and Q opens his mouth and talks and it all seems out of his control.

"Come in. _Please._"

Bond raises his head and there's confusion written on his face. But also hope and yearning.

"Just come in," Q repeats weakly. He goes back into the flat and reckons that the agent will follow without questions. Just like he did back then, after Skyfall, when Q's Russian blue appeared to him.

Q takes a seat on the arm of the couch and waits. Bond finally comes and hesitantly sits at the other end of the sofa. He doesn't say anything but the Guide _feels_ the question hanging between them. _What are we doing?_

And Q genuinely does not have an answer. _What_ are they doing? What is _he _doing?

His eyes land on the scratched wounds of Sentinel's hands, unclean and almost fully scabbed.

"You're hurt," he says out loud and before Bond has a chance of replying, Q is already out of the room. He comes back a minute later with a first aid kit and sits next to the agent.

"_Don't,_" he restricts before the Sentinel even starts complaining that he doesn't need help. He has already followed his nature today, went feral and exposed them. Now it's time for Q to be allowed to be Bond's Guide and _look after_ his Sentinel, provide him comfort and solace, as his primal instincts tell him to.

He takes out a disinfectant and pours some of it on silk gauze – special ones for Sentinels. He takes a short shuddering breath before he takes Bond's hand into his and then ceases any movement for a moment to simply savour the bitter-sweet sensations that accompany skin on skin contact.

Bond stays silent as Q tenderly cleanses the shallow wounds on the older man's hands and forearms. It's almost like a ritual driven by rules unknown to any of them. But for a moment they're both closed off into their own hushed world, without any set of laws to shackle their desires and nature. Q is moving with watchfulness and concern, his slender fingers slowly dressing the scratches with plasters. When he's done, he packs the first aid kit, puts it aside on the table and stills.

_What are we doing, really?_

When Bond's hand touches his cheek cautiously, Q lets his eyelids close and allows other senses to take in the Sentinel. Not long after the first, second hand joins, but this time it slides from Q's shoulder, down, and warily folds around the Guide's waist. Slowly, with gentle force, Bond pulls the other man towards him, until he's straddled on Sentinels lap. He takes off Q's glasses and puts them aside on the table, next to the first aid kit. Their foreheads touch and both of them know, _this is it_.

After long days of the struggle, abstention, fighting own nature – it's all futile.

They surrender.

"Q."

"James."

Q imagined that if they _ever_ take this step it would be more rapid, out of control and rough. But it seems like what they have now is already so intense, that they're afraid they'd choke if they took too much with their first bite.

Their kiss is slow and gentle and passionate. Bond's hands cradle Guide's face and Q is grasping the other man's shirt like his life depends on it. It's so overwhelmingly good to _finally give in_, that Q's mind is going out of control and his train of thoughts turns into stream of unintentionally projected raw emotions; _take me finally I'm yours I'm yours claim me never let go of me again_.

As their lips part for a moment, they're still sharing their breaths, gazing into each other's eyes; impossible sky blue meeting the warm green and_it's all so obvious_.

They're a Sentinel killing machine and an extraordinarily powerful Guide; destructive MI-6 agent and technical genius.

Once together, who can really stop them? Who would dare face them?

Nothing was ever meant to be simple for them but now it's so plain... Once bonded, they're unstoppable.

They both grin. They were so _so_ stupid.

And then Bond's mouth journeys lower, to the neck and Q almost sobs with need. Sentinel is leaving a trail of kisses on the bared throat, the tension between them rising with every quickened breath.

"For god's sake, _James_, we've waited enough, just—" Q whimpers and Bond holds him even more tightly, but complies. He bites into the pale neck and grunts with overwhelming satisfaction. The Guide feels his whole body filling with heat, every fibre of his being surrendering to the Sentinel. A moan escapes his lips as Bond's mouth leave a painful bruise on his throat and it's the most sublime moment of his life. The bonding started.

"We shed— _fuck_" Q starts saying and then giggles at himself, because he's suddenly incapable of producing coherent sentence (and because he's just so ridiculously _happy_)_._ "W-we _should..._" he tries again, trembling under the touch of Bond's hands that already took of his cardigan. "...m-move t— bedroom."

As a response, Bond shifts them and then guides Q's legs to wrap around his hips and arms around his neck. He gets up, doesn't falter even a little despite additional weight and heads to the corridor. Guide can't hold back the affectionate "My Sentinel, _mine_" at the demonstration of the other man's strength and Bond gives him a possessive grin.

They stop halfway, when Bond impatiently pins the Guide to the wall and kisses him thoroughly. It's their first kiss this passionate and hungry and Q moans invitingly when Sentinel's tongue explores his mouth. Every millimetre of skin that touches Bond's bare skin is burning him deliciously and he _needs more_. When they part to take a breath, the agent lets go of Q's hips and, without any instruction needed, the younger man slides to stand on the floor on his own. Sentinel praises him with a low appreciating hum and nibbles at the bruise at his neck that symbolizes their bonding. Bond's hands make a trail of caress along Q's arms, until they reach the slender wrists and almost violently pin them to the wall on both sides of Guide's head.

Q's breath shakes when Bond takes one of his fingers into his mouth and licks around it like he is trying to remember every line that's imprinted into the pale skin. He doesn't know how long it takes before every finger of his right hand has been explored by Bond, but by then, his mind is completely blank and everything that matters, everything that _is,_ is _his _Sentinel.

His knees finally give out, the bonding heat fully kicking in, when Bond is kissing his wrist, hot tongue resting against Q's pulse. He catches the Guide instantly.

"Bedr'm... Told you—" Q murmurs apologetically when Sentinel takes him into his arms. Q clings to him desperately, opening Bond's shirt wider and pressing messy kisses to his collarbone. "I need y'— _More_—"

Bond puts him gently on the bed and straddles his hips straightaway. There's a shirt still remaining on quartermaster's chest and now Sentinel rips it impatiently and throws the cloth blindly to the side. He leans in and buries his nose into Guide's neck, taking in his scent once again. He groans when Q entangles his fingers with short blond hair and keeps them there as Bond makes a path of kisses and teasing bites across the younger man's chest.

When agent's mouth reaches Q's hip, Guide pulls him back and attacks his lips with another heated kiss. His hands slide from Sentinel's hair to his shoulders and tries to get the other man out of his ragged clothes. Bond removes his torn jacket and shirt with few quick motions and then lies down again. They moan in unison as the skin of their uncovered chests meet. Q can't suppress the thrust of his hips and their erections rub through the layers of fabric.

Bond's teeth sink once again in Guide's skin, but this time on the other side, on the shoulder. Q shudders under him.

"_Yes_— Mark me, I'm yours."

"Mine, mine, _mine_..." Bond repeats like an incantation, first and only word he manages to say since the bonding started. Eagerly, Q starts unzipping Sentinel's trousers and swiftly Bond mimics his actions. When they're both entirely naked, agent's lips find its way to Guide's thigh. He leaves another mark there, letting out predatory growl muted against the bruised skin.

When Bond's mouth closes on Q's cock, he grasps handful of sheet as his hands clenches under the new wave of pleasure. Sentinel notes every little reaction that the younger man gives, every whimper and thrust of hips and instantly employs his freshly obtained knowledge to draw complete acquiescence in Q.

As Bond's finger starts to teasingly encircle around Q's opening, Guide copes to trigger his mind to create a coherent thought. "Lube. Drawer." His hand stretches up to point at the bedside table. Sentinel continues sucking for another couple of seconds before he lifts himself and moves to fetch the lubricant. One of his hands stays entangled with Q's fingers. They can't fully part even for a second now. Agent fishes out the bottle and comes back hastily onto the bed.

Q clings to him the moment the other man is in reach again. Bonding heat is making him dizzy and his mind centred only on the Sentinel. His Sentinel.

Once coated in lube, calloused fingers begin to stretch him slowly while Bond's mouth explores more of quartermaster's body. In a few days, Sentinel will know by heart the taste and texture of every millimetre of his Guide's skin, the sound of blood running in his veins, smell of his hair and the exact pace of his breathing while sleeping, working at his laptop, drinking his tea, climaxing. There would be no one else in the world to know Q that well and no one else Q would allow it to such extent.

He enters Guide's body in a measured motion, kissing his lips possessively. They try to savour every moment of this ultimate connection; it's not only carnal union, but the fulfilling moment of forming their bond. Bond swiftly sets up a pace that makes Q sink his nails into Sentinels muscular back. When they're both too close, he slows down and gets an impatient groan and two new scratches on his skin as a response. He answers with another bite to the Guide's neck and then elevates his lover to the sitting position. Q moans loudly when Bond's cock fills him fully once he's posed on Sentinel's lap.

"My Sentinel," he manages to articulate between quickened breaths and muffled moans.

"My Guide," Bond replies against pale sweated shoulder.

As their orgasm hits simultaneously, their minds turn blank and for a moment whole world explodes in white.

Awakening comes gradually as they're lying tightly embracing each other. Coming back to consciousness is like no other feeling they have ever experienced. From now on, they're one. Their souls are a unity, their minds start to intermingle in the most unique way known to any beings. They are still panting, their senses out of focus, but they can _feel_ their hearts beating out the same rhythm.

It's done. Nothing and no one will separate them now.

* * *

_Received: Today, 6:28 am_  
**FROM: **Q;  
**TO:** M;  
**SUBJECT: **change of status

**_Bond, James_**  
_007_  
_Agent /active_  
_Sentinel_

_Change of status to _BONDED

**_[Classified]_**  
_Q_  
_Head of Q-Branch_  
_Guide_

_Change of status to _BONDED

PS: _e-mail contact with Q-Branch will be maintained throughout the period of obligatory post-bonding leave of absence._

* * *

Message came directly to him, without any go-betweens. Q knew it is too crucial information to fall into hands of wrong person.

M sits in his chair and stares at the message from the Quartermaster as his freshly brewed coffee is getting cold. Q made sure it will be the first e-mail he would come across when he turns his computer on.

Sentinel honestly hates to admit of feeling at loss, but this is exactly what is happening now.

There is possibility of breaking the bond within the first hours of bonding. But would he _dare_ to try?

Priorities in both Bond and Q shifted permanently, Queen and Country will always be on the second place from now on, right after the bond and their partner (and Mallory knows that from his own experience).

Bond is irreversibly broken man and extremely dangerous Sentinel. And no one knows what level Q's Guide abilities will reach once he's bonded; and he can be lethal without them, access to a computer is enough. M hates to admit it, but now they are automatically becoming a liability – especially regarding the fact that their compatibility had met with deprecation from MI-6 from the very beginning.

Alpha Sentinel Mallory would do almost anything to have this duo on the right side.

What cards does he need to play now in order not to turn this quandary into pointless instinct-driven carnage?


	3. (understand the voice of your eyes)

_Fluff ensues. But never for long._

* * *

Q wakes up gradually, almost falling asleep once again when he registers it's still dark. He turns his head a little to look at the clock and after a second of focusing his short-sighted eyes, he manages to make out the numbers glowing in the half-light. It's four in the morning.

He's not surprised. It was late afternoon when he came back to the flat with Bond and they-

His gasps silently. They bonded.

He suddenly becomes aware of legs entangled with his, possessive grip on his waist and forehead resting on the back on his neck, hot breath skimming his skin. And all of this feels so _right_.

He turns slowly, feeling the need to see _his_ Sentinel. James awakens at the movement, opens his eyes sluggishly, eyelids uncovering the incredibly blue irises in a lazy manner. Q can't suppress a tender smile when he sees the Sentinel such at peace.

"Hello there," he says softly.

"Hello."

Bonding heat completely wore off and the raw instincts are not fuelling them anymore. There's no urgency. Q raises his hand to touch James' temple. He feels it – the bond – connecting and enfolding them. It's still fresh; it will be developing over the next days, months, years. There are not many set traits when it comes to Sentinel-Guide bonds. It's a fusion of their souls, but the physical and mental results are never predictable. Some after years are able to read each other's mind, some Sentinels are becoming almost invincible when around their Guides, some act like twins...But those are only some of the cases.

Q doesn't care how their bond will grow. He knows it will be simply perfect - because it's theirs.

And now, though it's still so fresh, he feels _complete_, like he never did before. The unfading hole in his chest is no longer suffocating him the moment he lets his guard down.

Q feels James' emotions stroking against his empathy. Guide's shields are down and will always be for his Sentinel now. His feelings will never be unwelcomed, no matter of what nature. Though, right now they're pleasurable only.

"I'd love to never leave this bed and your arms," says Q quietly. "But I really need a shower."

They don't talk about the bonding. About the fact that they opposed MI-6 and probably became a liability to the agency. About the consequences they may be forced to face. About how incredibly content they are, how complete. They don't really need to.

"Whatever you wish," answers James, but before Q starts to get up, agent pulls him closer and kisses him lazily. Q is more than eager to reciprocate and licks his way into Sentinel's mouth, deepening the kiss. And oh god, it's so good to don't care about ramifications, don't worry about anything, it's so good to be this close...

"Still, shower," Guide pants as they part and as he sees mischievous sparkle in those blue eyes, he adds. "And you're _not_ carrying me there."

Sentinel would probably look disappointed if he wasn't feeling so stupidly joyful. "Don't pretend you didn't enjoy it," he says instead but doesn't try to lift Q.

There's always a part of their skin that keeps touching. As Q sits up and manoeuvres himself out of duvet, James' hand stays on the small of his back and then, as they both walk to the bathroom, their hands automatically entwine. Though hormones are not rioting as much as during the bonding heat anymore, their instincts have not settled yet, after most of them have been abruptly rearranged. _The_ _pull_ they felt before, transformed into a tie knotting them together evermore, never to be ruptured, always summoning them back to each other; and right now, still oversensitive, making even brief lack of contact almost painful.

They turn the shower on and both go under the stream, Q feels almost over-content with the hot water pouring down his body and the Sentinel by his side. He puts his forearms against the tiles and leans on the wall, letting his eyelids shut. It's like a dream and for a split second he fears he'll wake up alone in his bed, still lacking and incomplete. The other man must sense his fleeting fright as unexpectedly his arms embrace Q a little too tightly.

He almost whimpers disapprovingly when James' hands leave his skin, though their hips keep touching. But then he hears the bottle of shower gel being opened and seconds later agent's palms are stroking Q's back once again, but this time spreading the gel over the pale skin, every so often leaving short kisses on the places where his own teeth formed bruised marks the night before. Guide let's himself be tended to by James, ignoring how their relationship is turning to be unconventional from the very first morning. It is Guide's role to be overprotective in such way as James is now fulfilling...

He groans when Sentinel starts washing his hair and messaging his scalp and James prolongs the act even more when he discovers how much the younger man enjoys it. After the shampoo is completely rinsed from Q's hair, the Guide finally turns around to face the other man and puts his hands on agent's chest. He nudges him slightly until Sentinel's back is grinding against the wall. For a long moment he simply strokes the defined muscles with visible awe and lust, admiring his _(and only his)_ Sentinel, then he kneels down and gives James' erect cock a teasing lick. As the quartermaster takes the head into his mouth, agent clenches his hands on Q's shoulders. He ceases sucking at the movement, and before James can compose a question, Q simply takes Sentinel's hands and guides them to entwine with his wet hair. He hums approvingly when calloused fingers sink into the dark locks and takes the cock once again into his mouth, this time deeper. It's not the most skilful blowjob James has been given, but Q makes up for it with enthusiasm, and the more agent plays with his hair, the more pleasure Q radiates, multiplying the bliss building in Sentinels body. When he comes, Q doesn't even try to move back, but continues to suck him throughout his climax and then licks him clean.

James finally lets his knees give out and slides down to sit next to the Guide. He manoeuvres the quartermaster to settle on his lap and then crushes their lips together. It's still his favourite thing, when they're so close, tongues discovering their own dance and he can swallow Q's moans. One of James' hands returns to Guide's wet curls, while the other finds its way to Q's painfully hard cock. Agent starts stroking him and at the same time tugs delicately on the hair on the back of his neck. His mouth once again travels to Guide's neck and nibbles at the bruised skin. Q wriggles deliciously and their new bond makes the experience even more intense, moving the carnal act to a whole new level.

Q comes with James' name on his mouth and the Sentinel tastes the echo of his release through the omnipresent empathy of his Guide that now enfolds his senses.

After another couple of lazy minutes, they slowly emerge from the shower and dry each other with towels. Q feels like a character from poorly written romantic story about lovesick teenagers that finally got their hands on their other half. But he finds out to his own amusement, that he doesn't exactly care. He feels drunk on James' presence and he doesn't want to get sober. While they dress, Q is for once thankful for his preference to wear oversized clothes at home as one pair of his trousers actually fits the Sentinel. He would never admit that he insisted that none of the t-shirts would be suitable in favour of having James Bond walking around his flat with bare chest.

As they enter the living room, they both halt abruptly at the unexpected sight in front of them.

In the middle of the room lies a grey wolf with his head lounged on his crossed forepaws, and a cat, Russian blue, is lazily sprawled over the back of the canine spirit. One of cat's paws is playing with wolf's ear, nudging it repeatedly.

Q giggles. "If that is supposed to be some kind representation of our relationship, _I can't wait._"

James snorts at the remark and embraces his Guide from behind as they continue to watch their spirits.

"You're not surprised to see my wolf," he states an indirect query.

"I've already caught a glimpse of him once," Q explains. "Just before you went feral, I saw him in front of me, guarding me."

"Good boy," comments Bond and leaves a short kiss on Q's neck.

They move to the kitchen and make breakfast in choir (which only lengthens the process as they tease each other constantly and mess with whatever the other is doing). Both of them haven't eaten well lately, so when the scent of scrambled eggs and bacon fills Q's nostrils and his stomach grumbles loudly, they finally manage to finish preparing the meal and pass on to eating.

They take their plates with them and nestle on the couch in Q's living room, Guide half-laying, with his legs across Sentinel's lap. The first aid kit and quartermaster's glasses are still on the table next to the couch. It seems like ages since Q left those there.

"I need to take another look at your wounds later. And send an e-mail to MI-6," Q says, thinking out loud. "I wouldn't want them to interrupt our obligatory leave of absence." He takes a bite of the scrambled eggs and almost moans. He hasn't realized how hungry he is and now, as the knot in his stomach is gone, he feels he could eat thrice his portion. He suddenly feels observed and lifts his eyes from the meal. James is watching him with fondness and contentment and Guide wonders if it's possible that he will ever get used to it. Though, in this moment, _everything_ seems possible - like when you're too drunk to care about any boundaries.

They eat in silence for a minute, before Q abruptly bursts out with laughter. He's giggling like crazy and he can't stop himself. Bond's eyebrows lift almost to his hairline, but there's a smile dancing at the corners of his mouth.

"We are ridiculous," Q states suddenly and then he can't stop his babble. "I don't even know how a bonded Guide should act, I never bothered to learn, and you neither seems to you know what we're doing. We are going to be ridiculous. You're a serial killer who can't stop teasing me while frying bacon. And I'm behaving like a teenage girl with a crush. _We are ridiculous_. Even our spirits are acting ridiculous." He's giggling again and then James chuckles too - an honest laughter that sounds almost rusty from being out of use. Guide cherishes it, wants the sound to make a nest in his chest, and suddenly the breakfast is forgotten. He places the plate on the floor and climbs onto Sentinel's lap and still grinning like a fool, leans his forehead against James'.

"Ridiculous," he says once more and agent kisses him lustily in a form of agreement.

ж

James awakens to a warm body against his and a feeling of being overwhelmingly at peace. Confusion fills him, because it's really not the emotional state he's used to rouse to, but then he opens his eyes, sees a dark mop of curls snuggling into his neck and relaxes again.

They bonded five days ago and he still can't fully believe it. His mentality hasn't come to terms with having a Guide either. Every day he wakes up to the content quartermaster in his arms, the first thing that fills him is perplexity, but soon followed by mix of bliss, protectiveness and a bit of paranoia. After all those years of being reconciled to solitude, he broke every rule and bonded. And now he finds himself gradually falling in love with Q.

There is a common misapprehension when it comes to Sentinel-Guide bonds – that being soulmates equals to being in love with your partner and functions like some kind of marriage. Though it's true that bonding is completed through sexual intercourse, it's just a play of hormones. Often, after the heat wears off, the bond reveals to develop into a relationship resembling one of siblings'.

James learnt about how love and bond can be separate things when he madly fell for Vesper Lynd. He never bonded with her and still loved her long after she betrayed him.

Relation with his Guide was filled with sexual tension long before they gave in to the pull, nevertheless, it could have been misleading. But since the bonding heat has passed, it didn't stop feeling like a honeymoon and if there's one thing he's sure about them is their desire. But lust is one thing...

James Bond didn't want to fall in love ever again. But then Q appeared in his life and altered so many things... And Q deserves to be loved by someone better, less broken. But James will have to suffice, because he's already falling helplessly and he _definitely_ won't share.

Q shifts in his arms and Sentinel feels him waking up. He still hasn't gotten used to the bond, how much it binds them. Nevertheless, he already can't imagine being deprived of it.

"Good morning, Q," he whispers, leaving a kiss on Guide's temple. Q mumbles something incoherent, rubbing his cheek against agent's chest, like he is trying to get even closer. Sometimes he acts like a cat that his spirit represents. James can't suppress a smile.

"I'll make us some breakfast," he says, disentangling himself from quartermaster's embrace. Guide mutters something again, this time with a tone of disapproval, but lets the agent leave the bed.

Being apart is not as unpleasant as during the first three days, though still his first instinct is to run back to Q, bury his face in the Guide's neck and take in his scent to be sure he is close. But they need to gradually get used to separation. Their work won't allow them to have period of habituation as long as other freshly bonded partners. Yesterday, Q has already spent half of the day on his laptop, monitoring the work of Q-Branch. The situation forced him to finally promote someone to R, his immediate alternate when he's not available, but still he prefers to keep his finger on the pulse. James can't blame him. He gained this position so recently and there's a part of him that doesn't feel fully comfortable with getting such long leave of absence so soon.

James makes toasts, strong brew of Earl Grey with three tea spoons of sugar for Q and a black coffee for himself. As he arranges everything on a tray, he recalls the attack of laughter that the Guide burst into when he declared they are ridiculous. He cannot contradict that statement. It's definitely a Guide's role to prepare meals and meet their partner's needs at such basic level. They really are turning out to be a bizarre pair and those are only their first days together. Well, not that he complains. They'll be exactly who they want to be.

When he enters the bedroom, he stops for a moment on the doorstep and takes in the view before him. Q is awake, though his hair looks like bird's nest and he's visibly fighting a yawn. There's an open laptop on his knees and he's typing with a speed that still impresses the Sentinel. James' spirit wolf is lying next to the Guide's feet, guarding him as much as keeping company. The view makes his inner Sentinel settled and satisfied.

"Do I smell Earl Grey?"

James smiles and wishes the Guide will someday lose his mind completely and fall in love with him too.

ж

Week and a half passed since their bonding and they find themselves approaching Vauxhall Cross together. There was some crisis in Asia that couldn't be explained on the phone and Q is needed to lead his department as almost all double-ohs are being sent out in the field.

Even though they're entering via the Q-Branch's emergency exit corridor, which is blessedly empty, James is a constant presence beside him, his hand on the nape of the Guide's neck.

They managed the separation in the haven of Q's flat, but now they're in the headquarters, full of other people and – most importantly – other Sentinels. The awareness of their presence in the same building is enough for James' nerves to be on edge. Q can feel his inner struggle clearly, the protectiveness mixing with annoyance and need to please his Guide - which now means behaving himself and watching over him silently, allowing him to work. Q projects as much reassurance at him as he can. He much prefers when his Sentinel is content, as he was the last days. But the reality always has to finally step in. They need to come back to work eventually.

Even though Q is returning to his department, 007 still stays on leave. There's no other way now. They couldn't have as much time for themselves as regular freshly-bonded partners should, so they are left with two options: either letting Q go in the field with his Sentinel or James moping around Q-Branch as his Guide does his job. There is only one Quartermaster and a couple of double-ohs, so there were essentially no doubts what they will choose. M was simply informed of their selection and he didn't do as much as approved.

Technicians are alert at the beginning at the vision of constant presence of slightly unstable 007. It is when Q actually realizes how the bond improved his skills as a Guide. He no longer has to lower his own shields to inspect emotions of those surrounding him. It is quite handy as no one notices when he gently projects tranquillity at them, helping the technicians to return to work swifter, no longer distracted by the jeopardy of Sentinel who was forced to bring his Guide to the outside world too early.

James steals office chair from Q's office and settles next to the Guide's workstation, leaving considerable distance between them. Q appreciates it. As much as he himself would prefer to sit in the Sentinel's lap, instead of standing a few steps away from him, it's all for the sake of the efficiency of his job. He is already constantly glancing at the agent, trying to suppress a smile that wants to curve his lips at the sight of his Russian blue on the Sentinel's lap.

ж

Q is busy creating an algorithm that will allow 009 to gain access to cameras of an extremely secured Chinese skyscraper as doing it remotely from MI-6 may be conspicuous. He's so immersed in work that he doesn't notice that something is wrong until Bond's arms are already embracing him tightly from behind. Q's concentration fades and his empathy is instantaneously overwhelmed – James is filled with paralyzing possessiveness, Guides from the department are alarmed and the crushing presence of oblivious unbonded Sentinel is getting closer and closer to Q-Branch.

"Would someone finally stop _staring_ and kindly go out there and stop this agent from entering the Branch?!"

But it's too late. 001 is standing at the entrance with a confused look on his face. James trembles as held back instincts are slipping out of his control.

"Get him out—" Q's voice falters when suddenly James teeth scrapes over the fading bruise on his neck. "_Out!_"

At last, two human technicians move and drag the perplexed Sentinel out. Even if 001 never desired Q, Bond's exaggerated reactions and buzzing hormones may have triggered him into attack.

Q just won't have another fight between feral Sentinels in his department. Before he even got to the headquarters today, he gave clear instructions that under no circumstances any Sentinels are allowed to enter their floor, let alone get so close.

He's furious and he _will_ find out which technician failed to inform his quota of MI-6' Sentinels about their issue – but later. Right now he has his own Sentinel to deal with. The possessiveness radiating from James is overwhelming his own senses and if that is what the Sentinel actually feels, Q is no longer wondering how they fall into feral state so easily; the sensation is maddening.

"James—" he says in a trembling voice, focusing on projecting reassurance and calm towards the Sentinel. "Let's move to my office."

James only hums in agreement against his neck. Q takes a deep breath.

"I'm unavailable for the next half an hour," Q announces to the rest of the department and feels the relaxation spreading over the technicians. He's not surprised. No one wants to witness feral 007 in such close proximity (especially for the second time). Q steers his Sentinel towards his office and loudly shuts the door behind them.

James pins him to the wall instantly, his face buried in the Guide's neck, taking in his scent.

"I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm here," Q mutters, clenching on the material on the back of the agent's jacket. He is projecting his submissiveness, trying to calm the Sentinel. He wishes they were still at his flat where there would be no one to distress James. He feels how strong their bond is, but at the same time, it is still so fresh. He hates that it has been upset. It should be developing without disturbance.

There is too much desperation in this, since the very beginning.

James uplifts him and leads Q's legs to entwine around his hips, pulling him even closer. They're breathing in perfect unison, inhale meeting the exhale, their chests pressed tightly against each other. The agent turns them, so now he is the one whose back is leaning on the wall, then slides down to the floor. Q stays entangled around the Sentinel when James rips open Q's shirt, ignoring that two buttons fell off and rolled away somewhere across the floor. He sinks his teeth into the skin just above the Guide's collarbone and growls quietly. He finally calms down.

As the Sentinel's disturbance is wearing off, Q's own emotions are surfacing instead. Somewhere inside the Guide there's anxiousness, verging on panic, and it enters the stage now. Sudden fear is unexpectedly haunting him – what if someone divests 007's claim over him? What if someone_somehow_ takes him away from the agent? What if James gets lethally wounded by another Sentinel? He's constantly surrounded by unbonded Sentinels-

Q's breath quickens rapidly and his fingers ache from clenching the other man's jacket too hard.

No. _No_. Nothing like that is going to happen. He belongs to James. He is protected by James. He is marked by James. James. _James_.

"Q, breathe," hoarse voice says by his ear and the Guide realizes that one of the Sentinel's hands found its way to his hair and is massaging his scalp. Plain concern almost fully took possessiveness' place among the agent's emotions.

"I'm yours and you're mine— tell me it is true, tell me we are—"

James interrupts him with a kiss, a mixture of passionate desperation and desperate passion, as if they're trying to get even closer.

"I'm yours and you're mine and _we will be_," the agent whispers after the Guide moans almost painfully. "We shouldn't have come here. It's too early."

Q knows James is right. They should go back to their flat and reassert their bond, make sure today's incident hasn't ruptured anything. It's good that Daniel proves to be so efficient as R. At least Q is sure the Branch won't collapse if he comes back to monitoring their work indirectly.

The Guide shivers slightly at the thought of informing M about their condition. It won't be face-to-face meeting at least, as encountering Alpha Sentinel right now may really end up badly. It would be ridiculous of James to perceive him as a threat, but in the state they're right now, they're far from being reasonable. Still, what will M say at their continuing leave of absence at the time of crisis?

James hugs him even tighter, sensing his worry.

Q laughs darkly against the Sentinel's shoulder. They were supposed to be invincible together. But right now, they're simply a mess.


	4. I've known them already

_This chapter and the following one were beta'd by lovely _fightyourdragon _- you can find her amazing 00Q fics under this username on ArchiveOfOurOwn._

_Enjoy._

* * *

A month since bonding passes before Q comes back to regular work. Two weeks later Bond goes on a mission, leaving _his_ office chair next to the Quartermaster's workstation conspicuously empty.

It's a short mission; three days at most. Uncomplicated assassination in Poland, extraction of data and erasing it afterwards. Piece of cake. Nothing can go wrong.

Still, Q finds himself unable to really focus on the blueprints of a car for 005's following assignment. His gaze jumps again and again to the right corner of his laptop's screen, where a window monitoring the status of Bond's flight is displayed. He's not sure what reassures him more – the constant status of the plane's journey being safe and uneventful or the sting of pain that follows every sudden movement of his head. The bruised mark James bit into the skin of his Guide's neck this morning is sore and painful.

Their bond is ready to endure the separation; it won't tear apart without being grounded by touch and closeness. But are they mentally ready? Q isn't sure about it as he recalls earlier when he was _begging_ James to bite him harder, until the Sentinel drew blood. Should it even be possible for a Sentinel to wound their Guide? Though Q did want it, asked for it. How fucked up are they really?

Q sighs, rolling his shoulders and trying to get rid of the strain in his muscles. He hasn't been able to relax since James collected his equipment and left Q-Branch. Another sting of pain runs through him, giving a ridiculous and fleeting sense of relief.

Q scolds himself internally and once again shifts his focus onto the blueprints in front of him. He needs to squeeze one more firearm somewhere inside the vehicle.

ж

"Sir?"

Q lifts his head, trying not to snap. He finally managed to get lost in his work. But R can't be blamed for fulfilling his duties.

"Yes, what is it?" R looks uncomfortable, clenching the tablet in his hands like some sort of shield. It doesn't indicate anything good.

"You have been summoned by Mrs. Lambert, sir. She implied you should come to Medical as soon as possible."

Q flinches. He knew it was coming, but chose to ignore it when it still was just a distant unpleasantness. "Alright. Reply with an affirmative. I'll be there in about five minutes," he says, rolling his shoulders once more to feel the mark. "These blueprints can be collected by Graham. He did good work so far, with those notes he should finish the project by tomorrow. Thank you, R."

Q looks again at the screen of his laptop. Someone else needs to handle James today since he's sure he won't be back quickly. The Guide considers the issue for a few seconds before he approaches the red head rapt with writing lines of code.

"Catherine," he accosts and waits until she finishes typing and looks up at him.

"Sir?"

"Upgrading this protocol can wait," Q says as his eyes scan her monitor. "You will handle an agent. He lands in Krakow in twenty minutes and he'll seek contact with HQ."

"Of course," she straightens in her chair. "Which agent?"

"007."

Her eyes widen, but she composes herself quickly. He wouldn't blame her if she reacted more expressively. Passing the responsibility of handling his Sentinel must be a shock. Especially as the whole department has been exposed to the freshly bonded pair of them for the past weeks.

"I've been summoned," he says, though he knows he has no obligation of explaining. But a sense of blame fills his chest at the thought of James landing on foreign soil and hearing a voice other than his in the earpiece. Excusing himself out loud makes him feel a little bit better.

"The mission's identification code is DO12018PL. Good luck."

Catherine swiftly writes down the string of numbers and letters and nods. "Thank you, sir."

Q exchanges a last gaze with R, reassuring himself that his second in command will control the work during his absence. Then he leaves, choosing the staircase instead of the lift. He needs a few more minutes.

Q has met Lambert a few times before. They were never pleasant experiences.

Lambert is essentially a part of the Medical but she and her male Guide are treated as an independent unit. MI-6's preternaturals are not subjected to the ISGA - International Sentinels and Guides Association - the supervision over them is shifted to SIS the moment their clearance reaches a certain level. That is the reason why Q couldn't refuse her summoning. Although hierarchy of the agency puts them equally, Q can't oppose her as a Guide. Unless he wants to be tagged as Guide-gone-rogue. It's that awfully simple.

They are _the_Sentinel and _the_ Guide of the agency, hated by all other Sentinels and Guides that ever come into contact with them. A couple comprised of a psychiatrist and a psychologist with a disturbing atmosphere embracing them, almost never seen without one another. Though Q doesn't remember ever talking with the Guide; it's always Lambert who's holding the meetings. Q's not sure if anyone even knows his name, he's just Lambert's Guide, a constant silent companion by her side. Both are fair haired and brown eyed, of similar height, which gives a sibling-like look to them. Both are evenly obsessed with analysing other preternaturals.

Since their first encounter with Q, the pair fixated on his abilities of a Guide - too eager to test and poke at his empathy. But he never agreed, finding his escape in the fact that any experiments on unbonded Guides can't be conducted without their consent, as it may impair their mentality without the grounding that a bond provides. Now, Q lacks that excuse. What's more, Q is fairly sure Lambert got her hands on the surveillance showing how he zoned out Ewens without touch while the Sentinel was feral. That 'achievement' is surely going to be troublesome now.

Q takes a deep breath and double-checks his mental shields before he enters Lambert's office.

ж

Bond is slightly twitchy as he waits for his baggage to appear on the carousel. He feels the lack of his Guide's presence, though it's not the same longing he felt before the bonding. It used to be a nagging emptiness that messed with his senses. Now his senses are untouched, sharper than ever, but there's this sensation as though something is wrong with the air he's breathing in and his surroundings have become hostile and unwelcoming.

When the Sentinel finally leaves the airport, he instantly delves in his pocket for the earpiece. He's tapping with his foot impatiently, waiting for the connection with the headquarters.

"007."

That's not the voice he expected. That's not the voice of his Guide.

"Where's Q?" he asks before he can stop himself.

"Q is not here, sir," answers the same female on the other end of the line.

"What do you mean?" Bond asks while he's trying to attach a face and a name to the voice. Catherine. Red head, a little older than Q, sitting on the left side of Quartermaster's workstation. Good at programming, though not so skilled at manual work with firearms, or so says Q.

"He's in Medical at the moment. I am to handle the mission in his absence."

James feels panic suddenly nesting in his chest. Medical? There must be some bureaucratic reason. Q isn't hurt. Q can't be hurt. James would know, he would feel it through the bond- wouldn't he? "Why is he in Medical?" He tries his hard to hide the aggressive edge to his voice. He needs Catherine un-spooked and cooperating.

"Q was summoned by Mrs. Lambert, sir."

The Sentinel isn't sure if he's relieved or even more alarmed. Q is alright, but Bond knows well how malicious everything about Lambert is. And they're going to be interfering with Q - he's too extraordinary a Guide for his own good. But why now?

They were waiting for Bond's absence, he realizes bitterly. They knew he wouldn't allow anything that could upset Q. Now he's there alone, obliged to follow the orders of a superior Sentinel.

He clenches his hands into fists and tries to let go of this overpowering feeling of helplessness. Q is his brilliant Guide. He will get through this. And Bond clutches onto this thought, aware that he needs to carry on.

ж

"Good afternoon, Guide Bond," Lambert says. Q can't hide how taken aback he is at being addressed by such title. "Please take a seat."

Calling a Guide by his preternatural species followed by a surname of their Sentinel is a custom rarely used in everyday life nowadays, still present only among old lineages and applied by officials from ISGA. It's a tradition derived from the times when Guides were treated as creatures destined to be owned by their Sentinels. Back then, once bonded and serving their primal purpose, a Guides' own identity no longer mattered.

Q despises the very thought of those narrow-minded times, but being called 'Guide Bond' gives him a bitter-sweet aftertaste. He's proud to be James' and that's the only surname he may have now – as his own was traded for a letter. But from Lambert's lips, it sounds _wrong_, almost mocking.

"Good afternoon," Q answers dryly and sits down. He feels her Guide probing at him, the tendrils of his empathy trying to sneak past his Quartermaster's shields. It's quite offensive, especially since the other Guide has an advantage in the presence of his Sentinel. However, he gets nothing. It only triggers the anger inside Q to grow.

"As you probably expect, we wanted to examine you as your status has recently changed."

Q nods, keeping the eye contact with Lambert, even though he feels his stomach twisting uncomfortably.

"Your skills were quite remarkable even before, that's why we think the regular examination would not suffice."

That doesn't sound good. Actually, Q has to focus on controlling his breathing. He is able to handle the stress while handling missions with agents' lives at stake, but the prospect of these two poking at his empathy - and not by regular methods - is quite terrifying.

"Please, _explain._"

"We would like to explore your ability to affect Sentinels without haptic connection," Lambert elucidates and her Guide leans his head a little to the left, watching the other Guide with something too inhuman in his gaze. "We have a certain unbonded Sentinel on our hands. He is a double agent, a traitor who sold another SIS agent to the Russians. But he won't cooperate even after unveiling his crimes. It's known he has a partner, another mole in the agency – and it must be revealed who he is."

"What does that have to do with me?" Q queries impatiently. He doesn't like where all this is going. He's too smart not to expect what comes next.

"_You_ will be the one to convince him to talk. Of course, the procedure will be accomplished by using your empathy only."

"You want me to _torture_ a Sentinel?" Q clenches his hands into fists. He wants to smash a keyboard into Lambert's unmoved face, but instead he gazes at her long red nails.

"He is an enemy to the agency and this _is_ an order, Quartermaster."

"What if I do not accede? What consequences will I face?" He won't agree. He can't agree. He's just a technician, not an agent. He's not made for this.

"Then your Sentinel will be summoned for the examination instead. We need one of you inspected after the bonding." Her unaffected mien doesn't change, but her eyes sparkle with satisfaction. She knows she's already won.

Q feels sick at the very thought of James being examined by these two. Tests performed on Sentinels are more physical and very invasive. After the Quartermaster's non-consensual behaviour at the moment, the pair will surely make them even more unpleasant, if not painful. And Lambert is aware that Q understands all that. Q is quite sure that this first real separation with his Sentinel is clouding his judgement of the situation, but damn it all, if there is any chance to prevent the occurrence of James being probed at by Lambert, he will take it. "If I concede now, you will _not_test my Sentinel?"

She smiles and it suddenly feels like signing a pact with the devil.

ж

Bond is strolling through Krakow's old town, following his target. He almost forgot how these parts of Polish cities are delightful to visit. They have a calming atmosphere, making one slow his pace and simply take in the place. It soothes him a little, though at the same time he can't shake off the regret that his Guide isn't here with him. He has been so stressed out for last couple of days...

He sighs and takes a seat in a cafe opposite to the restaurant where the target stopped for dinner. A waitress approaches James a minute later, offering the menu. He asks for a black coffee and smiles a little at the strong slavic accent in the waitress' English. It's been a while since he was abroad.

Bond must stop himself from grinning when he realizes how easy it is for him to use his senses now. He sees the target with detail despite the distance and window glass in between. When he focuses on hearing, he can make out what the man will have for his main meal. It's astonishing. He was always a bit afraid to stretch his senses this much, but right now he doesn't feel even close to zoning out. It's simply remarkable. Is this what he's been missing throughout all these years of solitude? He's suddenly overwhelmed with an urge to gather his Guide into his arms and thank him for _being_. And it's a fairly easy mission. How valuable will this new capacity be during more dangerous situations? He feels a shiver of anticipation at the thought.

The agent is taking the first sip of his coffee when, out of nowhere, an overwhelming mixture of anxiety and anger fills him, running through his veins like venom and he almost drops the cup.

Q. Those feelings are Q's. It seems Lambert is not wasting her time. She's fully taking advantage of Bond's absence.

But James can't think about it right now. He has a job to do and he can't fail. The agency is already sceptical about them; they can't give them more reasons for doubt. They said they are capable of doing their job and they won't prove otherwise. Even though Bond wants to fly back to England this very moment, he _will_ finish the assignment first. They'll endure.

ж

Q is standing in front of a one-way mirror, gazing at the unbonded Sentinel on the other side. David Miller. The traitor he's about to torture. He doesn't look dangerous, but Q knows a thing or two about being underestimated. "How do you even imagine it?" Q tries for the last time to get away from the task. "How am I supposed to make him talk? Isn't it a Sentinel's role to torture?"

"It's _not_ torture, Guide Bond. It's convincing to cooperate." She smiles nastily. "And your IQ says you're a genius; I'm sure you'll come up with something."

Q takes a deep breath and bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from snapping at her. Of course he'll come up with something. He already has.

He will reach with his empathy, invade at emotional level, dig up the primal need to bond, grasp it and exaggerate. It's the worst feeling that any unbonded Guide and Sentinel can imagine and every preternatural learns to hide it deep inside of him. Poking at it is like tearing one's soul to shreds. Q rolls his shoulders for the minute reassurance the sore mark may give, then turns to Lambert and nods.

ж

Alarm rises inside of Bond once again. His target is taking his time with the meal, now apparently waiting for the check while finishing his tiramisu. Bond is halfway through his second cup of coffee and once again he needs to focus on the aim of his mission in order not to bolt to the nearest airport.

Then rage mixed with terror fills him, boiling inside. He doesn't want to think about what's happening between his Guide and Lambert now. He tries to think about Q and somehow reassure him throughout the bond, even if he has no guarantee it'll work.

He recalls their last encounter, in the Quartermaster's office, saying their goodbye after the agent was given his equipment. A kiss that turned into a desperate act, Bond sinking his teeth into the pale skin of Q's neck, his Guide writhing in his embrace, _begging_ him to bite harder, his fingers tugging frantically at the short blond hair. The instinct to protect was stopping the Sentinel from bringing any hurt to his partner but then it seemed to be overridden by a frantic chant of _please do it harder do it do it please_ projected by his Guide and he tasted blood in his mouth.

It feels good to know Q is marked once again and he can only hope it gives his Guide some sort of support at the moment.

The target leaves the restaurant and Bond moves after him.

ж

Miller looks confused when they enter the interrogation room, but then he sniffs the air and grins.

"A Guide? You're going to sacrifice a Guide to convince me to talk?" He laughs dryly. "Pity won't make me spill anything."

At first Q frowns at those words, but the realisation comes swiftly. Miller thinks they want to play on his primal need to protect Guides, _any_ Guides – that Q is the one to be tortured in front of him.

Lambert tuts. "This Guide doesn't need to be sacrificed to make you talk."

The Sentinel starts at that and focuses his gaze on Q. "I won't let any Guide touch me."

The smile that spreads across Lambert's lips makes the Quartermaster's stomach flip uncomfortably.

"_That_ also won't be necessary," she states and nods at Q. The Guide takes a seat and for a moment allows himself to imagine he isn't in an interrogation room but the arms of his Sentinel and the thought alone seems to give him strength.

He needs to focus. He hasn't forced entry into anyone's mind since his training as a Guide when he was a teenager. It was never especially hard task for him, but still, he's nervous. Also, he has no idea how strong his empathy is now. Being bonded improved its prowess, but the separation... He has no idea where he stands now as a Guide.

And then Q closes his eyes and attempts bringing mental agony to this stranger at the other side of the table.

ж

Bond is driven by a ridiculous need to rush. He was supposed to gather data today, plan and set everything at night and strike next evening. But now this arrangement does not apply anymore. His Guide needs him.

Why does it have to happen during their first separation? Leaving Q alone was hard, yes, but if he'd been a voice in his ear right now and not pressured by Lambert, it would all be so much easier. The unawareness of exact state of his Guide is an itch in Bond's skull that won't go away.

His new plan is far from neat but Bond does not care anymore. It's not like he's known for elegant resolutions.

ж

Violating the mind of another preternatural is like plunging into a dark ocean. It doesn't embrace you with hospitality, but presses onto you with all its strength, pushes you out. It's easy to get lost in its vastness and sublimity, follow the secrets that allure you like siren song, ready to clutch you with their profundity and never let go, suffocate you with the promise of delicious discovery. You're always an unwanted guest unless it's your bonded partner's mind you visit. And it's _after_ you overstep the shields and defences, and are exhausted when you enter, you're starting to be in danger.

Q has to dive deeply into Miller's mind. His primal need to bond would be hidden near the bottom, neighbouring to his worst fears. A place where it's too easy to forget yourself and never emerge. Invading mind this deeply should not be performed without an anchor. And Q's anchor is somewhere in the middle Europe. Still, he keeps on diving.

He slithers by nightmares and unwanted memories, doesn't linger and doesn't look back, he can't afford getting distracted. He tries his hard to stay focused on the aim, but then, suddenly he chokes on the sense of being unwanted as it mirrors his own too much. He almost loses himself, once again an abandoned boy, rejected and lonely-

_Two pairs of eyes staring at him from above. "You're no longer a child, we know you understand."_

He drowns.

Then a miserable howl of a wolf awakens him and shoves him to escape.

He finds _it_ in the thickest darkness, and takes it into his empathic fingers. He hesitates only for a moment - there's an apprehension about an absent man with blue eyes whom he can protect by causing pain to another - and then crushes _it_, letting the pieces float.

His work is done, he muses, as he observes the emptiness and the agony spreading all around him.

Q emerges into reality filled with pleading and sobbing of a man and for a long moment, he doesn't know where he is.

"Please, make it stop, _please_, it's too much, you can't do this to me-" the broken male voice continues and Q slowly opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings.

The interrogation room, Miller, Lambert, the ultimatum securing James...

Oh, and he's the one who caused the Sentinel in front of him to curl up on the floor and weep miserably. Q is thankful he's sitting because he isn't sure his legs could hold him right now. He feels sick. He needs air. He needs to get away from here. He needs James.

"_Please_, I'll tell you everything, just make it stop-"

Q feels it, to a degree, even though he tries to shield himself. The impossible hollowness swallowing Miller, the sense of solitude and isolation, the same mental pain Q struggled with for half of his life, but exaggerated to the extent that is impossible to bear.

"Kill me, but make it stop-"

Lambert finally reacts. "You will tell us everything?"

"Yes, whatever you want, everything, but _please_-"

She smiles at the answer with hideous satisfaction and puts a hand on Q's shoulder. "Guide, will you?"

"May I touch him now? It'll be easier. The previous measure was exhausting," he asks, grateful for how steady his voice sounds. He wants the experiment to run in accordance to Lambert's rules, to be completed once and for all, but he needs her to say yes now. He's already feeling light-headed and he _won't_ lose consciousness and be left at her mercy.

Lambert nods with some reluctance and Q stands up instantly and approaches Miller to kneel by him.

"No, _not you_, don't touch me, you _monster_!"

Q's hand stops midair for a split second and he feels how his whole body begins to tremble. He clenches his teeth and takes a deep breath. He can't show weakness - at least not yet.

He rests his hand on the Sentinel's cheek, feeling the streams of tears under his fingers and projects as much comfort and reassurance as possible. He submerges once again, hastily gathering all the pieces and the despair and puts it back where it belongs, closed away in the depth and the darkness.

Q almost loses his balance as he surfaces and he can't focus his sight for a moment too long. Miller's features filled with raw relief finally clear in front of him and he recoils his hand. He mouths silent _I'm sorry_ before standing up and facing Lambert.

"Is that all?" Q asks with a plain voice. He's not sure he will make it if there's anything more to be done. And he certainly won't allow her Guide to nudge at his empathy now.

"Yes, that's all, Guide. Thank you for your cooperation."

Q doesn't speak anymore and simply leaves the room.

ж

Q is quite grateful it is R, and not any mere technician, who discovers him in Q-Branch's loo after he has been retching there for the last fifteen minutes. The Guide's body can't deal with what he put it through in that interrogation room and ever since he left it, he hasn't been able to return to work.

"Sir, are you alright?"

R sounds concerned but Q sees how lost he is and doesn't blame him. Humans don't know how preternatural tests are conducted and what reaction they may cause.

"I'm alright- Getting better, I mean," the Guide tries to smile but he's sure it looks like a miserable parody of it. "It's just food poisoning."

R frowns and Q knows he doesn't believe him. But he's a good assistant and doesn't ask questions when they're not welcome.

"I'd better come back to work now," Q says, convincing R as well as himself that he's up to it. He stands up from the floor where he was kneeling in front of the toilet and slowly walks to the sinks. R watches him in silence when he washes his hands and face.

"I'll be in my office in case anyone needs me," the Guide announces and turns to leave, but stops with a hand on the handle. "Oh, and R," Q says turning once again towards his second in command. "Get someone to bring me a cup of tea. Strong, with at least four sugars." Q doesn't like abusing his superior position like that, but today, he honestly doesn't care anymore.

"Of course, sir."

He doesn't head straight to his office though, but approaches Catherine first. "How's the mission going?"

His over sensitive empathy senses the anxiety before it paints on her face.

"007 reported after the landing and it all started smoothly, he managed to locate the target, but then," she finally looks up at him. "About half an hour ago, he aborted any communication with HQ."

Q sighs heavily. He's sure it's his fault. What happened with Miller - it must have upset their bond somehow. Now that he's gradually calming down, he can actually discern the worry that doesn't quite feel like his own. He can only hope it won't become too intense and James won't go feral somewhere in Poland.

"I'll assume supervision over the mission from now on," Q finally says. "Thank you, Catherine. You may go back to your previous assignment."

Q sits down heavily onto his office chair, grateful for the walls that conceal him from the rest of the department. He doesn't want his minions to see him weak.

He tries one time to restore the line of communication with James and when it proves unsuccessful, he decides he can't torment himself with that and desperately looks for something to work on. After briefly browsing through his drawers, the Guide comes across a hard drive that 003 brought in yesterday from Switzerland. It's a bit melted in one corner, but some data should still be retrievable. It's exactly what Q needs at the moment.

ж

The knock on the door makes Q jump but he quickly finds his equilibrium, hides his shaking hands under the desk and calls out to come in.

It's 005, strolling in without a care in the world and Q can sense the post-mission adrenaline high still filling him.

"What do you want?" the Guide asks, not troubling himself with courtesies. An unbonded boasting Sentinel is the last person he wants to encounter now.

"Bad day, Quartermaster? I've brought you something," the agent replies and puts a USB drive on Q's desk. "You told me earlier to deliver it directly to you."

Q nods, recalling the instruction. He wanted to decrypt this data by himself as it was not uncertain if any of the technicians have the clearance for what may be among those files.

"Good. Did you bring the rest of the equipment as well?"

005 laughs briefly. "Well, you know how it is, Quartermaster. This trick with good and bad news? I started with the good." The Sentinel buries his hand in jacket's pocket and reveals a smashed electronic lockpick that Q had been mastering for months.

"And the gun?" the Guide queries through clenched teeth.

005 shrugs, the silly smile doesn't leave his lips and Q snaps.

"Has your head received too many blows in your miserable life, Sentinel? Do you think this is Toys R Us? How many times do I have to explain that this gear does _not_ grow on trees? I understand you're not taking it for picnics with your mom, but for god's sake, show some bloody respect for our work! Stop giggling like it's _nothing_ when you're delivering scraps instead of equipment! I may not be your equal, you swaggering preternatural, but_I will not be mocked_."

The agent's mien finally loses its cockiness, but he doesn't yield to the bluster. He inhales to retort, but Q is quicker.

"Shut up and leave or I swear I'll make you zone out and lock you up in the office."

The Sentinel clenches his hands into fists but doesn't speak. Every preternatural in MI-6 has heard how Q zoned out Ewens and in what circumstances.

"Good bye, Quartermaster."

The moment the doors are shut, Q drops into his chair and sighs heavily. He's not sure what scares him more - that he's just fallen out with an unstable double-oh or the fact that he was ready to hurt another Sentinel.

'Monster', huh?

ж

The smell of blood is heavy in the air and the Sentinel almost zones out, choking on the copper scent. The sticky redness on his fingers fills him with ill delight and disgust at the same time - and maybe he should zone out after all and end his miserable existence.

But the thought of green intelligent eyes recalls him from the edge and clears the fog from his gaze. He has a purpose now. The missions are no longer potentially suicidal. Old habits die hard in the end. How long will it take him to remember that there's someone worth going back to now? Someone who will _always_ welcome him.

The overfocus on smell fades in favour of his surroundings sharpening at last. Bond takes in the three bodies lying on the beige carpet. The target and two bodyguards, one of the latter a Sentinel. All of them have their throats ripped out and Bond once again concentrates on the stickiness on his hands and feels fragments of shred tissue there along with the drying blood.

And earlier he was planning to finish the job _neatly_.

ж

The metallic aftertaste fills his mouth without warning, gagging Q and breaking his concentration. He automatically checks the skin under his nose, fearing that his previous empathy strain may be still paying off, but there's no blood. The unmistakable scent hits his nostrils, but there is none on him.

It must be Bond then. He must be surrounded by blood. And he still hasn't contacted Headquarters.

Q really hopes it's not Bond's blood that he still tastes on his tongue.

He tries to come back to his duel with lines of code, but the concentration won't come back. That's the moment when R enters his office and tells him to go home and _rest_.

Maybe for once he should actually take that advice. The Q-Branch is almost empty anyhow.

ж

Q doesn't remember how he got to the tube. The longer he stays without distraction, the stronger the feelings from the interrogation room are. All the emotions that the Guide poked at are haunting him now - the ghosts roaming his empathy. He went too deep without an anchor.

The ride is a blur, but as he exits the station he's awakened by the unexpected downpour that efficiently drenches him all the way to the flat. He's wet and cold and his hands tremble when he unlocks the door. Misery loves company, doesn't it?

He takes off the wet jumper and shirt in order to change into Bond's button-down shirt that is still lying in the corner of the bedroom from the previous evening. It's rumpled and smells of the Sentinel and that's exactly what Q needs. After that, he climbs into their bed, still in soaked trousers, and curls up there, trying to create an illusion of James' presence.

Miller's loneliness is infecting his empathy, dimming his own feeling of being bonded, wanted, protected. He knows it doesn't belong to him - this continuing twinge inside of him - but he can't fight it. He's too strained after that session in interrogation room and his Sentinel is too far away to fix it.

It was too early for such experiments. He's been bonded for six weeks and waiting for void in his chest to be filled for fourteen years. This disproportion is his enemy now, makes it too easy to forget how balanced he's been for the last weeks. Miller's desolation is mixing with his own, drowning him in despair he should not experience anymore. He can't breathe.

There's a distant buzzing sound somewhere in the room and his overworked brain supplies that it's his mobile ringing. It was ringing before as he was exiting the tube, but he didn't want to expose it to the heavy rain and then he got distracted by all this mess in his head. He feels he should pick it up, but even moving his fingers seems like an impossible challenge now. He's so cold and even his lungs don't want to cooperate.

Q registers a movement next to him and sees a silhouette of a grey wolf tucking in next to him, trying to enfold him with his ubiquity. Q lets out a choked sob, wishing he could bury his face in the immaterial fur. Nevertheless, the presence seems to alleviate his state, allowing him to take deeper breaths.


	5. eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase

Bond's sets off from Heathrow, driving in a direction of Vauxhall Cross with illicit speed, filled with a feeling he's already freaking late. He drives one-handed, ignoring any safety rules, as he's dialing Q at the same time. He's already tried before, while still at the airport in Poland, but then the flight created a gap in his attempts of communication. Now that he's out of the plane again, he's been trying to reach his Guide almost constantly.

Q always picks up his phone. Why isn't he answering now? _Fuck._

He swears vigorously when suddenly the Russian Blue appears on the dashboard, hissing at the Sentinel, once again scolding him. Bond swiftly gets the message - he's not only late, but also heading in the wrong direction. He takes a dangerous turn, gets honked at and rushes towards the flat.

He's running after he exits the car and doesn't stop until he's standing in the doorway of their bedroom.

Q is lying on the bed curled into fetal position, and Bond's spirit is right there, trying to substitute for the Sentinel as much as it's able to. Q's green eyes are blank, absently gazing at wolf's twitching ears. Bond feels an enormous weight drop suddenly onto his chest.

He approaches slowly, takes off his shoes and joins his Guide on the bed. It's like Q doesn't even realise that someone else is in the room. Only when the Sentinel extends his hand to brush the hair out of his lover's eyes does he start.

"Don't touch me, I'll hurt you," Q whispers. His hand lying on the pillow, where spirit's paw would be if it was corporal, clenches into fist. "I can't hurt _you_-"

"Shh, you won't hurt me," Bond says and this time doesn't hesitate to put his palm onto his Guide's neck. Q leans into the touch instantly. The Sentinel lies down parallel with the other man and leaves a brief kiss on his forehead. They need the touch to ground themselves, but the agent feels that in Q's current condition, he needs to divide it into doses.

"I'm here," he says. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"You're not late," Q mumbles. "It's me who screwed up."

Bond feels it's not the moment to ask questions, but he also can't reconcile with the state Q's in, so he dares to get closer and nuzzle his nose into his Guide's neck. The scent is like a salve and he can't stop savouring, and his Guide seems to derive as much comfort from the act as him. When his nose crosses the bruised mark his own teeth left only this morning (and it seems ages ago now), Q whimpers desperately. The Sentinel takes it as a sign he can take another step.

"You're trembling," James says. He sniffs his Guide's scent once again and - there it is – a smell of rain clutching to the Quartermaster. "You walked to the flat in the rain?"

Q nods.

"And you decided to just sit here in drenched clothes?"

Q nods again and James kisses his temple affectionately. "You're trembling from cold," he repeats. "Let's warm you up, okay?"

He gathers his Guide into his arms and stands up. Q doesn't grumble about being carried to the bathroom this time. The Sentinel removes clothes for them both and guides Q into the shower. They stay silent, allowing their bond to re-establish itself, embrace them with the comfort of its mere presence. Bond washes his Guide's hair with care, probably for the first time doing it for another person without even a bit of erotic context, but simply for comfort. They stay under the stream of steaming water until the Sentinel is satisfied with his Guide's body temperature. Then he allows Q to wear the same crumpled shirt he was wearing while waiting for Bond and they come back to bed. Bond sits his Guide down on his lap and Q instantaneously wraps his limbs around the other man.

"Tell me what happened," the Sentinel requests quietly.

Q doesn't know where to start. How to put it all into words? So he follows his instincts, leans even closer so their foreheads touch, and dives into James' mind. It's so different from invading Miller's-– here, he's welcomed and there are no threats.

It's truly blissful.

Bond feels how his Guide's empathy enters his mind and at first he's afraid he'll subconsciously deny him the access. But nothing like that happens. They're fully compatible now. One soul in two bodies.

After a perfect moment of simply _being together_ at such profound level (moment or eternity; time passes peculiarly in this non-physical connection), Q starts to answer his query, paints it for him with glimpses of memories and emotions.

_"Guide Bond."_

_"If I comply now, you will not test my Sentinel?"_

_Lambert smiles devilishly._

_Sentinel in an interrogation room._

_"I won't let any Guide touch me."_

_Diving into stranger's mind. The hostile emotions surrounding him._

_Sudden stop at the_**_rejection_**_. Miller's mixing with his own._

_A man and a woman looking down at him._

_"You were always different."_

_Rejection. Hurt._

_"You must understand our decision."_

_That's not how you treat a child._

_"You're no longer a child, we know you understand."_

_Only fourteen and always lonely._

_Am I a_**_monster_******_to you? Am I not your son?_

_Howl of a grey wolf._

_Sentinel sobbing on the ground._

_"Make it stop." Allow me to make it stop._

_"You_**_monster_**_."_

_005's playfulness changing into bewilderment._

_"I swear I'll make you zone out and lock you up in the office."_

They're both breathing raggedly upon emerging into physical world again.

"I'm sorry I'm so weak, James," Q's murmur is emotional and wavering and he suddenly reminds Bond of a lost child. "Only a burden-"

"No, you are _not_," the Sentinel retorts and takes Q's face into his hands to force him to look into his eyes. "You're one of the most powerful Guides in the world. You're the most brilliant man I've ever met. You're a gorgeous Guide that fought for me. You're a lot of things, Q, but you're not weak and never a burden."

Q buries his face in the other man's neck. "I shouldn't have lost it today." He knows he should stop talking but he can't. "I should be stronger. It was pathetic."

Bond sighs. He feels the self-hatred behind those words and he can't allow Q to feel it ever again. "Do you even realise what you've done today?"

"I destroyed a Sentinel and threatened another?"

"You shouldn't have survived what you've done to Miller. And then you endured so long, all alone- And you did this for me. You did more than any Sentinel can require from their Guide." He leaves a brief kiss on Q's cheek. "We're preternaturals, not gods. And you are extraordinary, but not invincible."

Q takes a deep breath. James is right. Of course he's right. His words and presence are gradually grounding him; he's becoming lodged in reality once again.

"You have questions," Q murmurs after a few minutes. He's still nuzzled into Bond's neck, his eyes closed. The bond is harmonizing and the Sentinel's emotions are gaining measurable labels. It's so good to understand each other with fewer and fewer words. If it wasn't for today's fiasco, how tuned in with each other would they already be?

"What you showed me earlier," Bond speaks without rush, carefully choosing his words. "Those weren't only memories from today. Some were older."

"I believe you've seen some snippets from when my parents abandoned me after discovering I'm a preternatural. Miller's similar memories evoked my own." Q's voice is even, but Bond feels how uncomfortable the topic is. Still, he needs to know - and Q senses that need and delivers. "When I was fourteen, my Guide nature awakened. My parents thought of _us_ as freaks of nature— And I was always a difficult child, too mature for my own good and preferred machines to people a bit too soon," he sighs as his shaking hands start to nervously play with buttons of his Sentinel's shirt. "After they realised _what_ I am, I was dispossessed and sent to a facility for young preternaturals. One of those for the ones who can't control their gift - or burden as some would say. I ran away after a week."

Bond wants to know more but doesn't push for now. Q doesn't need to speak out loud his plea to leave that topic for a time being.

"You know you're no longer alone, don't you?" Bond speaks quietly, his face buried in the wet curls next to his Guide's ear. "I know I'm broken, but we have each other now. You're always wanted, Q. And never _ever_ again think of yourself as a monster."

Q inhales sharply, but can't find the words that want to leave with his next exhale. But he doesn't need to. Bond feels the relief and paralyzing comfort that floods the previous anxiety.

The Sentinel's embrace becomes even more tight when he braces himself and stutters a quiet "I love you", because he needs Q to understand - that it's not a feeling conditioned by their bond, but a sincere affection for him as a wondrous and beautiful person; that Q is the most important thing in his life at every possible level.

The Guide tenses in the other man's arms. How could such a disastrous day have turned into one of the most precious nights? Is that the sublimity of life after bonding?

Q finds himself unable to form a reply, the words don't seem to do justice to any of his feelings. So he allows himself to follow his instincts once more and lets his empathy entangle their minds, lets them feel the unity of their souls, lets the Sentinel _feel_ the pure reciprocation of his affection instead of putting it into words.

"That was-" Bond starts but it's really not something that can be described using human lexicon. So he just mirrors the smile that spreads across the other man's lips. Q can't stop grinning. He's unable to imagine the world without their bond again and he giggles into James' shoulder. He's back from that highway to hell. Miller and his invasive fears seem like a distant nightmare now. He's back.

"Thank you," Q says, his smile turning more tender.

"You know you don't need to thank me for anything."

_It who we are now_, comes without actually voicing it.

The excitement about the development of their bond fills them concurrently and they kiss sloppily, still beaming. Then it turns more passionate and James removes the crumpled shirt from Q's shoulders, discards it on the floor and then turns them around so that the other man is lying under him.

Bond leaves a trail of gentle kisses on Q's forehead, as if he's made of the most fragile glass. It makes a sublime contrast with the stubble that scratches the Guide's brows in tandem with the caress. And it's good, it makes it all more real, and real is what Q needs; it's placing him in the moment, in his skin, among the feelings his Sentinel is delivering. Q sighs contentedly and pulls his Sentinel in to join their mouths again, allowing their tongues another dance until they're out of breath.

James' lips rarely leave his Guide's skin. He once again records the taste and texture of Q's body under his tongue, though he already knows it all by heart. Q puts one of his hands on the back of his Sentinel's head, enjoys the brush of short hair against his palm and fingers as the other rests above the shoulder blade, feeling the muscles moving under the tanned skin. He trembles quietly under James' touch, allows his lover to take him apart, knowing he'll come back resurrected.

Usually their sex is rough and desperate, ending in bruised marks blossoming on the Guide's pale skin and nail scratches on the Sentinel's already scarred body, as if they still can't get enough of each other after such long wait to finally be joined together. But it's not what Q craves tonight and his Sentinel senses that and provides his partner with what he truly needs. The crisis is averted, but the wound is still fresh. And perhaps it's what James needs too. Their needs all seem to coincide and blur into one entity now.

Bond reaches for the bottle of lubricant on the bedside table, arching over his Guide. Q seizes the opportunity to leave open-mouthed kisses over the defined muscles of Bond's stomach, his hand brushing over the nipples. "Impatient?" the Sentinel asks playfully. He gets the answer in the hungry gaze of green eyes that bore into him as he returns to his previous position over the other man. _I simply still can't get enough of you._

James growls deep in his throat at the sight, his preternatural side dominating as he leans in to bite Q's reddened lips and then lick his way into his Guide's mouth. Q braces his hands against the mattress and heaves himself to join their hips. The Sentinel hisses in surprise when their erections rub against each other. "Yes, quite impatient," he murmurs, pushing his Guide down on the sheets.

Q moans quietly at the sensation of cool lubricant against his entrance and then wriggles against the Sentinel's finger slowly pushing into him. "Oh, yes," he hums, clenching his hands on James' shoulders.

As he adds a second finger, Bond's tongue slips over the bruise on his Guide's neck, the one he left before going to Krakow, the one that kept Q sane during his absence, and Q's nails sink into his biceps, leaving half-moon shaped evanescent marks. He keeps exploring that area until he's sure that his lover is ready. Bond smiles, pleased when a desperate whimper escapes Q as the agent withdraws his three fingers.

As the Sentinel enters his Guide's body, he once again does not rush. He positions himself and pushes slowly in, his nose brushing against Q's temple. The Guide wraps his legs around Bond's waist, his hands moving to rest above agent's shoulder blades. Once he's fully inside, James stops to kiss the other man, briefly but heatedly, and then finally starts moving.

It's still an unbelievable act for them. Their hearts speeding up with the same rhythm, the pleasure merging between them, their bodies finally joined as one as their souls are, their bond reinforcing. Bond's moves back and forth almost painfully slowly, his hips moving with fluid motions, swiftly diminishing his Guide's world to only the two of them and the sensations they share.

When his Sentinel speeds up, his thrusts becoming more abrupt but still maintaining the right angle, Q starts murmuring James' name and then moans loudly as his climax hits. Bond fucks him through it, but as his Guide becomes limp in his arms, he slows down almost to stillness.

"No, don't stop, come for me," Q says in a blissful voice, nudging his hips and deriving a groan from James' throat. The Sentinel kisses his Guide and hastens his movements once again. It doesn't take long before Q stops breathing for a moment upon feeling Bond coming inside of him.

ж

When Bond wakes up Q is already awake, his lips curved into a gentle smile. The Sentinel can't suppress a smile himself when he looks into those green eyes and sees the same witty boy who talked back to him in the art gallery and who manages double-ohs and a Branch of half-geniuses. The irrational fear from yesterday is fully gone and Bond can't stop himself from ruffling the brown curls only to be met with a snort and an unrestrained chuckle. It's like being welcomed back home.

"How are you?" Bond asks, because as much as he enjoys this idyllic moment, he's also an overprotective prick and he can't help himself.

"I'm fine," Q replies and lifts himself to straddle the other man's lap. "And I would be _absolutely_fine if my Sentinel shagged me senseless before work."

Bond grins predatorily. He recalls how he had wondered if they're really compatible before the bonding. Now he looks into Q's eyes and knows they're a perfect match.

Q bows to brush his lips against James' and whispers, "I know, we're bloody lucky," before they join in a proper kiss.

_Bloody lucky_. Yes. That seems the best way to put it, Bond muses as he indulges in the kiss, but then, too early, Q halts with last nip at the Sentinel's lower lip and rises with a sly smile. He slides down his lover's body and without a warning closes his mouth around the Sentinel's cock and Bond's mind goes comfortably blank for the time being.

ж

Bond parks his car in MI-6's underground car park and Q is hit with the sudden realisation that his Sentinel won't head to be debriefed after the mission in Poland, but will actually want to go somewhere usually he has to be manhandled to.

"James-" Q says in a tired voice. The agent turns towards him and it's all that's needed. The wordless understanding arises between them.

_Yes_, Bond will go to Lambert and he'll tell her what he thinks about her. _No_, he won't be subtle about it. _Yes_, he must do this or it'll keep him up at night... And finally, _yes_, Q is going with him and the Sentinel can't try to stop him.

They end up entering Medical side by side and the nurse at the entrance at first stutters something about having an earlier arranged appointment, but after she meets the gazes of ice blue and green eyes, she lowers her head and doesn't interfere anymore.

"Guide Bond? We didn't expect you-" it's all Lambert manages to say before she's forced back and a hand on her throat immobilises her against the surface of a nauseatingly beige wall. Her Guide stands up reflexively and spreads his hand towards the hostile Sentinel, most probably to zone him out before any harm comes to his own Sentinel. But Q is faster and stands in his way with his arms crossed on his chest, performing an efficient attack on the other Guide's empathy, paralyzing him in place. Today the quartermaster is not deprived of the advantage of having his Sentinel close and his preternatural primacy over Lambert's Guide is something the other man can't overcome. Q allows himself to relish that moment. He knows that his Sentinel is in the same dominating position. Lambert is a Sentinel as well and not a weak one, but James is also an agent and that's the most vital advantage on his side. She wouldn't stand a chance in a combat against a double-oh.

"Don't worry, I didn't come here to stoop to violence," Bond says although his hand stays around the woman's neck. "I just want to give you some advice."

Lambert's Guide twitches but he knows he can't pass by Q. If he makes another step towards the Sentinels, Q's invasion of his empathy will turn from a warning to a painful attack.

"If you force my Guide to do anything against his will during my absence _ever again_," continues Bond in a completely controlled voice. "I will come here to repeat _this_ but actually tighten my hand," he says as his fingers shift a little against the Sentinel's throat. "But don't think this is me threatening you. No. I will start threatening _now_. I will make your Guide watch as I strangle you and then leave him here to lose his mind over your corpse."

Q feels an unpleasant shiver against his spine at those words. The worst thing any bonded preternatural can imagine is losing their partner. But the grief usually doesn't last too long. They fall into madness or take their own lives within days. Terrorizing Lambert with such a future for her Guide is an ultimate duress, worse than promising this fate to Lambert herself.

"I acknowledge your _advice_," Lambert says without the strength that usually resides in her voice. Bond smiles wickedly and recoils his hand.

Q leaves behind Bond in silence, shielding himself from the bundle of negative emotions that fills up the room.

ж

They walk through Q-Branch completely composed and enter Q's office without rush. But when the door closes with a soft click, Q pushes Bond against it and attacks his lips with a heated kiss because that _thing_in Medical was creepy, but also extremely hot and well, they _are_ a perfectly matching fucked up pair. The Sentinel groans possessively into the other man's mouth and pulls him even closer. When the trivial need for oxygen parts them, they settle for teasing brushes of lip against lip, mixing their breaths, and Bond tugs lightly at the hair on his Guide's nape. They're a little too drunk on their lethality but they're definitely not going to think twice about it when they can simply savour the sensation.

A knock on the door is unwelcome, but needed, because Q really should get to work. Bond heads to occupy the guest's chair while the Quartermaster accepts the manila folder that R delivers.

"Don't you have anywhere to be?" Q asks as he sits into his chair.

"Oh, Quartermaster, are you throwing me out?"

"You're distracting."

The grin that follows the statement isn't a surprise and Q snorts at the stupid expression on his Sentinel's face. He turns his attention to logging into the system and browsing through the e-mails that piled up overnight.

"Moneypenny messaged me a few minutes ago," Q says as he shifts his gaze from the screen to Bond. "M wants to see you as soon as possible."

The Sentinel sighs. "Well, looks like it's time to get my scolding for making a little mess in Krakow."

Bond leaves with that, giving his Guide a parody of salute before closing the door to the Quartermaster's office. Q anticipates being filled with nervousness about his Sentinel facing the consequences of a screw up conditioned by their bond; about crossing the line with their baby steps and as a result becoming condemned by MI-6. The fear that hasn't ceased following them since they took the risk and bonded. But it doesn't come.

In the heat of the bonding they thought that once they were together, they'd be invincible. In reality they were weak and vulnerable after lowering their defences to let the other in. But it seems that after tripping over the first obstacles, they're finally heading in the right direction.

Q smiles and he _knows_ Bond's lips are curved in a predatory grin as well as he's crossing the corridors towards M's office.

They can't say it's all perfect. They'd probably have difficulties with saying it's _good_, because what has _really_ been good in their lives so far? And was it even living up to the definition of 'good'? But wherever they are now and whatever they have, it's definitely better than they have ever known.

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_Thank you all for reading!_


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